The Story Of Ralph Raccoon
by Ralph Jr
Summary: Ralph Raccoon retells the story of the earlier years of his life, especially of how he met his wife, Melissa. Contains some disturbing and depressing scenes. Complete unless I am requested to go back and change/add/remove anything.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This is my very first fanfic posted on this site (although I have written my own fiction for many years). Please do not be too harsh on it and if I do not do the best job keeping the characters in-character, forgive me; as characterization has been something I've always struggled a bit with.

Anyways, the Raccoons is a series I have not been a fan of for a long time-maybe 3-4 months or so was when I first watched this show, on the recommendation of a friend. I have not seen every episode of the cartoon (and I haven't watched all of the specials, as I can't find a full version of _The Raccoons And The Lost Star)_, but I have seen the majority of them and have thus familiarized myself with the characters, for the most part. I would consider this my favorite '80s cartoon, which says something as I have never really been a big fan of '80s cartoons (or '80s music, but that's another story altogether). Anyways, I decided to write this story about Ralph Raccoon (my favorite of the titular Raccoons) telling the story of his younger days, and primarily how Ralph came to know his wife, Melissa. The show itself presents some conflicting stories on how they met- in _The Sky's The Limit!_, Ralph tells Melissa's old boyfriend, the sky pilot Troy Malone, that he met Melissa when he accidentally spilled a cup of coffee on her, which (I would assume) would mean they met when they were at least teenagers. However, in the episode_ Making The Grade!, _it's shown that Ralph and Melissa went to elementary school together, which would mean they in all likelihood met on their first day of school. That's pretty confusing, isn't it? So, I decided for this story, Ralph and Melissa met each other in college. That's as much of the plot of this I'm willing to spoil. Oh, and for this fanfic, Bert, Ralph, and Cedric are in the same age group, and Melissa is a year older than them. Also, this story is told from Ralph's perspective, so it will be in first-person. I hope I don't mess his character up badly for this. And the story is being told in 1992, which is within a year of the actual show ending. Oh-one more thing-in this story, the Evergreen Forest is situated in British Columbia.

But, I realize I'm rambling, so I will now shut up and go straight to the disclaimer.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap**__: I do not own the rights to the Raccoons. They belong to Kevin Gillis and Evergreens Raccoons Marketing. If I did own the rights, well, I'd probably be living in a mansion just like Cyril Sneer and probably have three bumbling sibling workers aggravating my life at every moment. Any and all bands, songs, albums, sports figures (there will be some), and real people mentioned in this story also do not belong to me; they are the property of their respective owners, though none will be playing a starring role. Any and all characters in this fanfiction who are not from the Raccoons TV show and who are not real people are the property of myself and can only be used with my permission. Any resemblance of characters to real people, living or dead, is coincidental but could be intentional. I also do not intend to profit from this fanfic, because If I did, I'd probably be arrested._

**The Story of Ralph Raccoon**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

Hello there. My name is Ralph Raccoon. But, I'm sure you already knew that, as you more than likely have heard (or perhaps, read) my name before. I live in a forest community in western Canada called the Evergreen Forest. There, I run the local newspaper called the _Evergreen Standard_. I have only two other official members on my staff: my wife Melissa, who is the photographer, and my (seemingly) permanent house-guest, Bert Raccoon, is our ace reporter (and our delivery boy too, heh heh). Myself, I write some of the columns, and I am also the editor. You wouldn't think we'd be able to put together even a semi-decent newspaper with just 3 people on staff full-time, but, you would be quite surprised. Actually, I am too, myself. I'd actually gotten a job offer to work for the newspaper in the big city, and had planned on moving to take that job, but Cyril Sneer, the local multi-millionaire, learned of this and planned to destroy our forest once we moved away. He planned to bulldoze the forest and build condominiums for the rich and elite of the upper class to purchase. When we got word of this, we banded together and published a newspaper warning the rest of the forest's denizens about his plan to destroy the forest. As a result, Cyril's plan ended up being doomed to failure. It was supposed to be a one-time only thing. But, as it turned out, we had a great time putting the paper together, and well, it took off from there. I'd anticipated my paper being popular locally, but not much more than that. Imagine how surprised I was when I got a letter to the editor from a reader in the mountains of West Virginia! Many people, not just here in Canada, but in the USA as well, apparently read and subscribe to our paper. I really did not anticipate this, and I am pleasantly surprised.

Now, I suppose I should tell you more about my friends. Bert Raccoon, who as I mentioned is my reporter, has been my best friend nearly as long as I can remember, almost as long as I've been alive. It's pretty surprising, since we couldn't be more different than night and day. I tend to be quiet and reserved sometimes, and fairly calm. Bert, on the other hand? He's a pretty goofy guy. He loves to laugh, and often tells jokes, some of which are pretty bad, but I usually laugh at them anyways. Bert claims to be an expert in many, many careers and sports, among them, an expert hockey player, a future Hall of Fame baseball player, a potential championship-winning Indy Car star of the future, a connoisseur of all things peanut butter, a future rock and roll star-you name it, he claims he's an expert in it. Now you may think from what I've said about him, he doesn't sound like that great of a guy. But, he really is, once you get to know him. He's really a big-hearted guy, one of the nicest individuals you could ever meet. He's always willing to make new friends, and try to help people out whenever he can. If you're new to our forest, he's probably the first friendly face you'll encounter. I really can't say enough about him, he has his share of flaws (but then again, don't we all?), but overall he is quite an all-around good guy. I've heard him say he thought he might be the greatest raccoon to ever live, and, while I wouldn't go so far as to say that, he's certain the best one of my kind I've ever met.

Then there's Cedric Sneer, an aardvark. I've known him since I was just a little kit. Cedric is the son of Cyril, so you'd naturally think being raised in that rich environment, he'd be something of a snob or a jerk. He's nearly the total opposite of his father, though: whilst Cyril is greedy and can have a pretty short temper, Cedric is a nice, quiet guy who rarely ever raises his voice anger. I'm not sure I've ever seen him get really angry about anything; if I have, I certainly don't remember it. Cedric is very smart; he has a bachelor's degree in business and accounting from the University of British Columbia, something he and his father are very proud of. He recently became the business partner of his father and now they run the family business together. He has a girlfriend named Sophia Tutu, who, although nice, can be somewhat ditzy. But they're happy together, and I say, good for them. All around, he's a good guy too; his only real flaw is that he lacks confidence in himself and is prone to self-doubt quite often.

Next there's Schaeffer. Schaeffer is an Old English Sheepdog. I didn't know him until just a few years ago; it wasn't until after Bert moved into my house, the Raccoondominium, that we met him. Schaeffer might not seem like much when you first see him-you might think he's not very bright by looking at him. But don't let first impressions fool you-Schaeffer is one of the brightest individual I know-common sense-wise, at least! He's in his mid-40s, and has seen a lot more around the forest than the rest of us have. He comes off being a pretty laid-back kind of guy, but he's dedicated to helping protect our forest home. Don't make him angry-he earned a black belt in karate in his youth, though he's not practiced much in years, since he accidentally hurt a friend with his skills many years ago. He runs the local Blue Spruce Café, one of the local hotspots around here. Overall, he's a good friend too.

Now I suppose I should tell you more about my family. I'm not an only child; my older brother is named George Raccoon. He is fifteen years my senior. While I work in journalism, George works in the food business-he has long been a cook and has worked as a chef in numerous restaurants. He moved to the Evergreen Forest about a year ago when he lost his job and came to host his very own TV show: "Chef Surprise." Despite our differences, we get along pretty well. George is married to Nicole Raccoon and has two children, my niece and nephew. George and Nicole are both pretty good parents, at least by my book.

Then there's my nephew, Bentley Raccoon. Bentley is fourteen years old and in the eighth grade. He visited the forest every summer for about a week or so before his family moved here. Bentley is highly intelligent for his age and has his own computer-which is something not every kid has. He used to have a large one in a suitcase, but recently he got a desktop with something called "Windows 3.1" on it, said to be the most up-to-date computer released yet. I'm not really familiar with computers, but I'll take Bentley's word for it. He looks up to Bert and considers him his idol, to some extent, and also frequently visits his aunt and uncle. I'm proud of Bentley; although he has his flaws and can be a handful sometimes, he's a good kid and he has a bright future ahead of him-probably in the computer industry, although Cyril Sneer is strongly contemplating getting Bentley to work for him once he graduates college!

Next, there's my niece, Lisa Raccoon. Lisa recently graduated high school and is planning on heading to the local Evergreen University, of which I am a proud alumnus. Lisa is a fairly sporty young girl and led the Evergreen High women's basketball team to the 1992 British Columbia provincial basketball championship finals. Though they came up short in the finals, the fact they made it at all was most impressive. Despite her skills in athletics, she plans to go to college on an educational major to teach children at the old Evergreen Elementary school (which I am also a proud graduate of). Bert has something of a crush on her and tried desperately to get her to go on a date with him when she first came to the Forest. It didn't work, but they did begin writing each other and later when my brother moved back to Evergreen, they struck up a good friendship. She had a hard time adapting to her new home, but Bert was able to help her out. I overheard him not too long ago still hoping that one day they would be a couple-which actually stands a good shot of happening. I must say though, George is a far better parent then I would be-he's taking Bert having in an interest in his daughter very well. If I had been her father, I probably would have strangled Bert half to death-just like that character Homer from that new cartoon, _The Simpsons_, does to his son on a regular basis!

Last, but most certainly not least, is my dear wife Melissa. As I mentioned she is the paper's photographer-it's always been a hobby of hers. She actually managed to get a few books of her photographs published-and they sold well too, which was pretty impressive-admittedly, I'm a little jealous! Not to mention, she actually got a job offer from the _World Times Magazine_-a magazine I'd once dreamed of working for when I was just a kit, though she ultimately chose to stay here and continue working for the _Standard_. She sometimes feels that I work too hard on the _Standard_, especially since some nights I've up late finishing editing, but I usually get home in time for dinner. Sometimes she also gives me a piece of her mind when I've upset her-especially when I was being quite a jerk trying to improve my paper in the hopes that I could win a Civics Award for Small Town Editor of the Year (which I did win-one of my proudest moments, really). Admittedly, I really did deserve getting chewed out for that! Though she sometimes upsets me (I can get jealous, easily), I could never stay mad at her for long. I really couldn't imagine myself married to anybody else-we've been married almost eight years now. Someday, one day, we might have children-though I'm not in any real hurry to start a family yet! I certainly couldn't be happier, though-my life is at an all-time high.

But, it wasn't _always_ that way. As a matter of fact, there once was a time I wasn't so confident in myself, a time when I doubted myself greatly and felt that I might not ever amount to anything. That was years ago, but I still remember it so clearly. As well, I remember when I met Melissa. The story of her and me is quite a story, indeed…

But first, I feel I should tell the basic facts of my childhood days…

**END CHAPTER 1**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I am fully aware that having Ralph describe his thoughts about his family and friends is fairly redundant (you probably already know most of the above information, though some of it I made up, like Lisa majoring in education, which is something I just pulled out of left field), but, it was the only way I could think of opening this story. Since this is a story being told by Ralph to someone else (Most likely he'd be typing this up on his typewriter; if you wish, this could be his memoirs), I figured it would be best for him to describe his friends and family and give his opinion on them. I promise the next chapters will be better. I also promise that I will never write as long an author's note as I did to open this chapter! One last note, the next chapter is a very long one, get ready for a big read.

Anyways, read and review!


	2. Chapter 2: From Birth To A Freshman

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Like I said, I think this chapter will be better than the last one. We actually get to hear about some of Ralph's past in this chapter, or at least his school days. Warning: This chapter contains some mildly violent and depressing scenes. It is also one hell of a long read. This story will be fairly lengthy, so, you've been forewarned.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__Everything I said in Chapter 1 still holds true for this chapter. I do not own the rights to the Raccoons. If I ever somehow do manage to acquire the rights to them (Which is VERY unlikely), I will be the first to let you know._

**Chapter 2: From Birth To A Freshman In College**

My story all begins on September 14, 1961. I was born in Evergreen Hospital in the Evergreen Forest, British Columbia, Canada. Or at least, that's what I thought for years. I actually recently researched my birth records since I couldn't find my birth certificate-and discovered, much to my surprise, I was born not in the Evergreen Forest, but in Billings, Montana, USA! It was quite a shock. I wondered why my parents never told me. I went to my parents to ask them why they never told me I was born in America. As it turns out, they had been on vacation at the time and happened to be stopped in Billings when my mother suddenly went into labor. I was a tad disappointed to learn I wasn't born here, but, at heart, I'll always be a natural resident of the Forest.

As I said, I was born on September 14, 1961, to Arthur and Millicent Raccoon. I don't remember anything from the first two and a half years of my life-I would be lying if I said I did! One of my first memories was of my big brother George leaving the house at 18. I was just three years old at the time. While he did complete high school and earn his high school diploma, he ultimately did not go to regular college-instead, he enrolled in a culinary school, far away in Toronto. As such, I don't have very many memories of George growing up, though when I did get older he did come to visit sometimes. And when I got older he did write to me from time to time.

At an early age, I discovered I had an interest in the news program. I remember being about four years old and intently watching the news programs on my parents' old black and white television. I always listened to what the reporters of the day would say-even if I could not understand all their words yet. I also read the newspaper my parents had delivered to their door. You see, at that time, there was no _Evergreen Standard_, so my parents instead were subscribed to the newspaper from the nearest big city. I would read all the articles and even attempt to complete the crossword puzzles, although I knew very few of the answers at that young an age. Despite my obvious interest in the news and journalism, my parents always assumed that I would follow in my uncle Rocky Raccoon's footsteps, and take up a career in aviation, as we had a history in it (my ancestors had been at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina for the Wright Brothers' first flight). Uncle Rocky was once a famous bush pilot, but he'd since taken up flying commercial airliners. When I was about five years old, Uncle Rocky gave me his old aviator's scarf that he had worn on all his missions. I've worn it ever since. I promised Uncle Rocky that I would follow his footsteps and become a pilot too. It was a promise I'd ultimately come to regret.

* * *

><p>Then came my first day of school. It was the fall of 1966. I remember that day very well. My mother was packing my school lunch in a brown paper bag that morning.<p>

"Good morning, little Ralphie, I'm packing your first school lunch, honey."

"But mom, I don't want to go to school. I'm scared what the other kids will think of me. What if they don't like me?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sure they will. It's nothing to worry about, you'll do fine. Now here's your lunch. Hurry Ralph, the bus should be waiting!"

"O-okay, Mom."

I walked out of my house and went to the bus stop. Within a few minutes the bus came, and I boarded it. The bus ride to Evergreen Elementary was uneventful. I was a rather shy kid, so I sat in the back so no one would notice me.

Soon the bus arrived and everyone exited the bus for our first day of school. I was the last one off the bus; I was really terrified and was shaking in my knees. I had yet to be this scared in my young life. But I slowly made my way to the door, where our teacher, Miss Primrose, was waiting.

"Hello there, little raccoon, what's your name?"

"R-ralph, ma'am."

"Ralph! Welcome to Evergreen Elementary, Ralph. I'm Miss Primrose, your teacher. I'm sure you'll have a great time learning here."

"U-uh, I don't know ma'am. I-I'm kind of scared. I don't think the other kids will like me at all."

"Ralph, you have no need to worry. You will get along fine with your classmates. I'm sure of it."

"A-are you sure?" I asked, still not fully believing her.

"I'm sure, Ralph. Now come on. There's a lot to learn here!"

"O-okay, Miss Primrose."

I entered the classroom, albeit rather nervously, and took my seat. Evergreen Elementary was a one room schoolhouse, so there were about 60 of us from kindergarten to the sixth grade. Despite my fears, the first few periods of the day went well, and I actually answered a couple questions asked by the teacher.

I thought to myself, "Maybe school won't be so bad, after all."

I was very wrong.

Soon, recess came. There was a special condition to recess-it was the time you were also allowed to eat your lunch. So I played in the sandbox and then sat down to eat my lunch, a wafer and an apple. As I prepared to take a bite of my apple, an older kid, an alligator, from a higher grade, came up to the sandbox.

"Hey, shorty. What'cha eating there?"

"An apple. My mom packed it for me." I replied to him. I noticed he called me "shorty", but I ignored it, as I thought to myself, "Maybe he wants to be my friend?"

"Looks good. I'd like to have a bite of that."

"But, my mother packed that for me. I don't want it to go to waste. Hey. I know. Maybe I can ask my mother tomorrow to pack an extra apple and then I can share it with you?" I thought I was being nice.

"That won't be necessary, shorty! I want that apple right now!"

"Huh?" A look of unease came over my face.

Then, much to my horror, the kid grabbed my apple out of my hand and took a big bite out of it. He then grabbed my lunch bag, pulled out the wafer, and ate it. I was mortified, to say the least.

"My lunch!" I cried. "Give it back to me, please!"

"I don't see your name on it. This is my lunch now!" He laughed at me. I was so upset, I tried to grab the apple out of his hand. Much to my surprise, he punched me in the arm, hard.

"OW!" I yelped in pain. This was what I was dreading since the moment I had woken up that day.

"But if you want food so bad, kid, here, have some DIRT!" He then grabbed me and buried my head into the sandbox, causing me to get a mouthful of sand. He laughed at my pain and fear.

"Haha, what's the matter, Shorty? Can't handle it?"

With tears streaming down my face, I cried out: "I want to go home! I want my mommy! MOMMY!"

"Aw, does the wittle baby want his mommy? Too bad!" He then punched me in the back of the head hard. I still have a small knot on the back of my head from where he punched me, if you look hard enough. He then pushed me back into the sandbox.

I was afraid I was going to be beaten to a bloody pulp. I curled up into a ball and cried, waiting for him to stop, when suddenly I heard a voice.

"Hey, what are ya doing? Leave that kid alone!" I looked up. It was another raccoon, one wearing a red sweater with the letter B on it.

"Huh?" I said, confused. Was he coming to help me?

"What do you want, you loser?" shouted the bully.

"Leave him alone. What did he do to you? I saw the whole thing and he didn't do anything to you. Leave him alone and pick on someone your own size!" said the other raccoon.

"Why should I?" asked the bully, scoffing.

"If you don't," the other raccoon replied, with a look of anger in his eyes, "then I'll take you on myself!"

The bully laughed that another younger kid wanted to take him on, but he replied, "Fine. He's not worth my time anyways." The bully (who I later learned was named Garth Knox, a younger brother of Cyril Sneer's rival, Mr. Knox) then went away.

Then the other raccoon spoke to me. "You don't look so good. Are you alright?"

"I-I think so. Why did you help me?"

"I don't think that was right what he did. You said you'd get another apple for him tomorrow and he stole your lunch and beat you up. That's not right."

"No, it's not…well, anyways, thank you."

"No problem. So, what's your name?"

"My name's Ralph Raccoon."

"Nice to meet you Ralph, I'm Bert Raccoon. I think we might be good friends."

"You want to be my friend? But…I thought no one here would want to be my friend…"

"Well, if nobody else does, I will. If anybody else picks on you, I've got your back, Ralph."

"Wow, really?"

"Sure. What are friends for?"

I smiled.

Then the bell that ended recess rang.

"Hey, recess is over." Bert said. "Why don't we talk on the way home?"

"Okay," I said. "I'll talk to you then."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, though a couple of kids did comment on the large knot on the back of my head. Soon it was time to go home and we boarded the bus to go home. I sat next to Bert and we talked some more. It turned out we didn't live too far from each other. He lived right down the road from me, less than half a mile away. We decided we would visit each other's houses as often as we could. Not too long afterward, we built our clubhouse near Evergreen Lake and started our own club.

* * *

><p>Three years went by and soon Bert and I were in the third grade. It was now 1970. We had been the best of friends, even though neither of us was very well-liked by the other students-I'd actually gathered a reputation of being a coward. We had visited each other's houses many times and our parents knew us well by now. But, on the first day of third grade, a new student arrived.<p>

"Class," said Miss Primrose. "This is Cedric Sneer, son of the local enterprising businessman, Cyril Sneer. He just transferred here from another school."

Everybody was in shock. Cyril Sneer's son was coming to our school? We'd all heard about him from our parents, and from what we'd heard, well, let me just say it was not very flattering. We were all worried.

"Hello, everybody, my name is Cedric Sneer. I am pleased to join your school and look forward to furthering my education here."

"Thank you Cedric, you may now take your seat." He ended up sitting behind me.

"Bert," I whispered, "what do you think? Cyril Sneer's son is sitting behind me. What should I do? I'm worried he might be mean to me."

"Don't worry, Ralphie," said Bert, calling me by his childhood nickname for me, "I'm sure he's not that bad. Let's talk to him at lunch."

"Well, Bert, I hope you're right."

Soon lunch came and Bert and I were playing on the slide. Soon, Cedric came up to the slide.

"You two look like you're having fun." Cedric noted.

"Yes, we are!" Bert said at the top of the slide. "Why don't you join us?"

"Gosh, I don't know…"

"C'mon, Cedric!" Bert yelled. "Let's have fun!"

"Mmm…" Cedric thought to himself. "Well, alright!"

Soon, Cedric was playing with us. We'd feared he would be mean and nasty, but he turned out to be friendly. After we played for a while, we chatted a bit.

"So, Cedric," Bert asked. "What do you plan to do when you grow up?"

"Me?" Cedric asked. "Well, I'm going to work with my pop, if my grades are good enough."

"I'm going to be an airplane pilot," I said. "Or a newspaper writer. I haven't decided which."

"I'm going to be a famous rock star and travel all over the world!" Bert said gleefully. He pretended to play like Jimi Houndrix, which meant he pretended to smash an invisible guitar on the ground.

"Bert," I said chuckling, "Jimi Houndrix died a few weeks ago. Don't you remember the news breaking the story?"

"Oh, yeah," Bert said, not as excitedly, "yeah, I do. But, no matter! I'll just be the next Jimi Houndrix! I'll travel the world and take it by storm! Or, or, I could be the next Woodchuck Berry! Yeah! I'll be just like him, too!"

"That'll take a lot of practice, won't it?" Cedric questioned.

"Eh, maybe so," Bert said. Then he laughed, "But I'll be the greatest!"

"If you say so, Bert." I said. I didn't really think he ever would be a rock star, even at that age; I just could not see it.

"Move over Rover, and let Bert take over?" Cedric said, chuckling. I laughed too; he'd just quoted one of Jimi's most famous songs.

"Hey, quit laughing guys, I really think I can do it. Don't you believe in me?"

"Well, if you think you can become one, I guess we'll support you." I said.

Some more years passed. Cedric, Bert, and I remained close friends, and visited each other often still, much to Cyril's chagrin. He didn't particularly like Cedric hanging out with raccoons, not even when we were kids. Once, Cedric invited us to come over to Sneer Mansion to watch the Super Bowl (which was relatively new in those days). We knocked on the door. Cyril answered.

"Huh? Raccoons? What do you want, you little varmints?"

"Mr. Sneer, sir," I said, "Cedric invited us over to watch the Super Bowl. May we come in?"

"I don't know what my boy told you, but raccoons are NOT allowed on my grounds! Now, get the hell out of here before I chase you off my property myself!" Much to our surprise, he produced a gun and pointed it at us.

Needless to say, we got the message and left. Cedric never invited us to Sneer Mansion again during our school days; instead, he snuck out of his house and came to watch TV with us. Sometimes this got him in trouble with his father; although Cyril was not one to spank his child, Cedric told us that he got a good tongue-lashing for sneaking out several times.

Cedric, Bert, and I often watched sporting events together. Cedric had an interest in hockey and baseball. Myself, I had an interest in hockey as well, but I also enjoyed basketball and tennis as well. Bert was most interested in professional football, baseball and Indy Car racing, and every year until we graduated, we'd come to Bert's house (as his family actually had a color TV-they were relatively expensive then) and watch the Stanley Cup, the World Series, the NBA playoffs, the Super Bowl, and the Indianapolis 500-which used to air on tape delay at night back then.

During this time, I continued to read the newspapers and watch the news broadcasts. Around this time, suddenly, my interest in flying waned. I'm not really sure when this happened, but I am pretty sure it had something to do with reading and watching news reports about deadly plane crashes that seemed to be on the rise. I remember around 1970 or so, reading in the newspaper about a jet airliner crashing in Ontario while attempting to land, killing everyone aboard. (**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This is actually true. An Air Canada flight crashed on July 5, 1970 after a botched landing attempt at Toronto International Airport (now known as Toronto-Pearson), killing all 109 people on the plane) Needless to say, I decided after reading stories like these that a career in aviation was not the career path I wanted to take-as a matter of fact, I actually developed a fear of flying! I made up my mind around the time I was in sixth grade that I wanted to pursue a career in newspaper journalism. But I didn't dare tell my parents, and least of all, Uncle Rocky. I knew he would be extremely disappointed in me, but I did not have the courage to tell him. Maybe I should have. He would end up finding out anyway.

* * *

><p>Sooner than I could realize it, we'd graduated elementary school and moved up to Evergreen High. A lot of things changed once we got to high school. Bert had once been rather unpopular, but by the time we got to high school, he had become one of the most popular students out of our whole class. It probably didn't hurt that he by now was playing guitar. He got his first guitar, a 1971 Fender Stratocaster Sunburst, when he was twelve years old. Suddenly, those dreams he had of becoming a rock star when he was younger didn't seem impossible anymore. He was often practicing, and had already learned a significant number of songs. Also helping his popularity was his taste in music at this time, when he had first gotten his guitar he had been into glam rock groups and artists such as Tyrannosaurus Rex, Frog the Hoople, and David Crowie, but by this time, he had gotten into the punk rock scene and was playing songs by groups such as the Ravens, and the Trash. Myself, I personally never cared for punk rock at all, but I would sometimes come watch him play to support him. I actually had learned to play the drums around the same time Bert got his guitar, but unlike Bert, I didn't have any plans to become a professional. I could never have lived the rock and roll lifestyle-it just wasn't for me.<p>

While Bert had become quite popular, Cedric and I remained quite unpopular, and we were frequently being lumped in as "nerds". This was most likely because the both of us frequently were on the honor roll-I was nearly always making anywhere from a 85 to a 95 in subjects (except for tenth grade, where I got a 81 in math, which did not please my parents), while Cedric was routinely making a 100 in every subject-even in physical education, which was quite a surprise. It was rather glaringly obvious he was going to be our school's valedictorian. Bert, on the other hand, was constantly earning grades in the 70s and sometimes slacked on his assignments, so Cedric and I helped him out sometimes. It also didn't help that Cedric and I were both socially awkward in high school-me especially. Plus, both of us were out of style when it came to our taste in music, Cedric liked classical piano compositions (he could even play some of them himself), and I myself liked the psychedelic rock music from the late 1960s, from when I was growing up (I guess I always have been something of a hippie at heart-I wanted dearly to believe that love _could _save the world, even though I realized that that was very unlikely to ever happen). Groups such as Pig Floyd, the Moody Newts, Raspberry Grandfather Clock, and such. Perhaps it was understandable that we were labeled "nerds", but it still wasn't right. For the first time since my first days in elementary school, I found myself being bullied.

As we progressed through high school, it became rather clear that Bert had quite the talent for attracting the ladies and he had quite a steady stream of girlfriends, although he never seemed to be able to stay with one for much longer than a month. Cedric and I, on the other hand, had a rather hard time getting dates, as most of the girls didn't seem to be too impressed by someone who read a lot of newspapers and wrote poetry-a hobby which I had taken up when I was about fourteen. Some of the girls were impressed by Cedric because of his high grades, but as for me, I didn't really think I had anything that made me really stand out to anyone. And it looked like I was right. I had numerous crushes throughout my high school, and all of them ended rather badly. Several times the girl just laughed at me and how awkward I came across, while other times they politely declined. And other times, I never had the courage to even approach the girl, and she wound up dating another guy in school. It looked like I was doomed to be a loser in love. Bert tried to help me by setting me up with a girl named Sarah Sanders, a dog who was in the class below mine. She was my first actual girlfriend, but it did not go well at all-on our first date, I ended up spilling my drink all over her-I had always been rather klutzy when I was younger-and she did not take that well as I ended up ruining her dress. Needless to say, she broke up with me and she ended up telling everyone else in school. For the next few weeks everybody laughed at me saying such mean-spirited things as "Hey, look, it's King Klutz!" "Hey, check it out, it's Drink Boy!" and "How did your _**date **_go, Ralphie?" As a result, I became extremely depressed.

Soon, our senior year arrived and the senior prom was approaching fast. Bert had managed to ask the head cheerleader for our school's football team, Frieda Falcon. It wasn't a big surprise to me at all. I was hoping that perhaps I could finally get a date that might actually go somewhere for the senior prom. Unfortunately, luck did not seem to be on my side. Once again, I found girls laughing in my face when I tried to ask them to prom. It was either that, or they already had a date and declined my offer. However, for once, luck seemed to be on my side. There was one girl who didn't have a date. That was my crush at the time, Linda McDuffie, a cat in the same grade as me. For once, it looked like something was going to my way. I might actually get the girl! I decided I would call her on the phone and ask her to prom with me. Bert had given me her number (it seemed he knew all the girls' numbers) and so, here I was. Holding the telephone in my hand. Holding a piece of paper with her number on it. All I had to do was call her.

"C'mon, Ralph," I said to myself. "You can do this. You can do this. C'mon. All you have to do is call her and ask her to prom. It's not _that _hard."

But could I do it? What if she said no? What if she laughed at me?

"No, Ralph. Don't think about that. Just call her and don't think about that."

I reached for the numbers to dial…

…and the slammed the phone down and sat on the bed.

"No." I said. "It _is _too hard. I-I-I can't do it!" I had chickened out. I just could not do it! I could not bring myself to dial the number.

And so, I would have to go to my senior prom, alone.

* * *

><p>My mother was helping me adjust my bowtie. "Oh, doesn't my big boy look so handsome!"<p>

"Don't see why you need to help him with that penguin suit." My dad said.

"Oh, you hush!" my mother shouted back at him. Dad wasn't exactly in the best mood at the time.

"Thanks, Mom." I said.

"So, Ralphie," my mother asked. "When does your date arrive?" Uh oh. I hadn't told my mother I had not managed to get a date for the prom.

"Uh, date?" I said, nervously, starting to sweat. I debated whether I should lie and say I had one or tell the truth. I quickly decided to just tell the truth. "Mom, I didn't get a date for the prom. I'm going alone."

"Going alone?" My dad said. "Son, what the hell? How did you not get a date?"

I again felt nervous and decided there was no way I could tell my dad I hadn't had the courage to ask Linda to prom. He would have called me a chicken. My dad was not a bad guy, believe me, but sometimes he was hard on me for not being more confident or standing up for myself.

"Mom, Dad, I waited too late. All the other girls had dates."

"I'm sorry Ralph," my mother said.

"Boy," my dad said, not sounding too pleased, "what the hell? How could you wait too late? You have to be prepared ahead of time for things like these. Strike while the iron is hot!"

"Well, I know that now…" I felt pretty embarrassed.

"I'm sorry you couldn't find a date for prom, Ralph," my mother repeated, "But look on the bright side, honey. I'm sure some of the girls wouldn't mind dancing with you, as long as it's okay with their dates."

"Yeah…" I said, really doubting that.

"That's right son. Go, go, my boy! Go out there and dance your ass off, son! I think you can be the Prom King, easily!" Now that I think of it, my dad reminds me a lot of that cartoon character I mentioned before, Homer Simpson. Or going back to those days, Archie Stunker.

"Gee, uh, thanks Dad."

"Don't mention it boy, now go out there and have the time of your life!"

"Okay, Dad." I wish he was right about that. Instead, I had a good feeling this would be the most depressing night of my life.

* * *

><p>Soon I arrived at prom. They were playing music that was currently hot on the charts, including "Crazy Little Thing Called Love", "Heartache Tonight," and "Against the Wind". Everybody was dancing and having a good time. Bert was dancing with Frieda and going absolutely crazy, they were actually dancing to the Locomotion! Much to my surprise, Cedric had gotten a date to the prom-he'd asked Sally Simpson, a fox girl in my grade, to the prom. I felt shamed-even Cedric had gotten a date and I hadn't!<p>

I was the only one not really having fun, instead of dancing or trying to ask anybody to dance I instead sat at one of the tables and drank some water. I figured if I wasn't going to have fun, I could at least pass the time, so I'd brought a newspaper and decided I'd spend prom solving the crossword puzzle. It was the best thing I could think of to do.

Then I saw her. Linda McDuffie. She was alone. Maybe now I might at least get to dance her and at least make this a semi-decent night.

I got up from my table to go talk to her…and then I saw her date come and dance with her instead. It was Lenny Sutton, another raccoon, and one of the stars of the football team.

That did it. I didn't feel like staying any longer. I ran out of the gymnasium and went to go sit on a bench out near the parking lot where I cried, and cried. I knew I must have looked absolutely pathetic, but I didn't care-I just felt like a worthless piece of garbage.

It wasn't too much longer until prom ended and everybody left to go home. Not surprisingly, many of the other guys laughed at me and how miserable I was, which only made me feel worse. If right now is the all-time high point of my life, that night was my all-time low point.

Soon, Bert came up to me. He was wearing a crown-it was obvious that he'd been voted Prom King.

"Ralph, you okay?" he asked.

"N-no, Bert." I said, looking up at him. I must have looked utterly pathetic with my bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down my face. "I-I just want to be alone."

"What happened? I thought you would have a good time at prom."

"Bert, I chickened out of asking Linda to prom. I wasn't brave enough to call her; I am nothing but a coward. I think you should just go." I said, crying some more.

"You chickened out of asking Linda out? So that's why she was there with Lenny…"

"I saw her dancing with him and I couldn't stand it. So I came out here. I feel miserable. Why did I have to chicken out?"

"Ralph, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I knew it would be hard for ya to ask her out, I shouldn't have pressured you into trying her out. I didn't really know it would turn out quite like this."

"Bert, do you think I'm destined to be alone?" I asked sadly, still.

"No, why? Do you think you're destined to be alone?" Bert asked, sounding concerned.

"I think so. No matter how hard I try, nothing seems to go right. I can't get a girlfriend, none of them are interested in me, and I get too scared to try asking them out. No matter what I do, it ends in failure. I honestly think I'm going to die alone, Bert." I put my head back into my paws and sobbed again.

"Ralph, cheer up now. Don't think like that, if you think like that, you probably will end up alone. You can't get yourself down like that."

"I know…" I said, trying to control myself. "But when can I do about it?"

"Think about it, Ralph. You're smarter than me, for one. You make better grades than me."

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you'll probably be one of the highest in class rank. That means a lot, I heard. The higher you are in class rank, the more likely you are to succeed. Or at least that's what I read somewhere…"

"So?"

"So, Ralph, that means you'll probably be successful. You have a bright future ahead of you, don't get yourself down. Our high school days are almost over and soon we'll be in college. A lot of things change in college, my dad told me. All this bad stuff that's happened to you throughout high school won't matter anymore when you get to college! It'll be a fresh start-for all of us. Including you."

That made me feel a little better, but I still felt pretty down on myself. "Well, I never really thought of it that way. Thanks, Bert." I wiped my eyes. "But, that still isn't much comfort. How is that going to help me find a girlfriend?" I'd rarely discussed matters of the heart with Bert, mainly because I'd assumed he'd rather not hear about stuff like that.

"I may be an expert in many things, Ralph, but the heart is not one of them." Bert said solemnly. "I may know how to pick up girls, but the way I do it wouldn't suit you at all."

"I understand, Bert." I said, anticipating a response like that.

"But, as I said, things change a lot in college. You're going to study journalism, which I'm sure will lead you to a high paying job. That'll impress some girl out there, no doubt!" Bert laughed.

"Really now." I said flatly, not believing him one bit.

"Really."

"How can I know you're right?"

"Well, lemme be honest Ralph. You might be considered something of a nerd, you might be the most handsome guy in the entire world, you might be kind of…awkward, but deep down you're a good guy Ralph. You're not mean or nasty at all, you study hard, and you work hard, a lot harder than I do! You run the school's newspaper and always do a damn good job putting it together. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you're a good guy. Some girl out there is gonna see that and be impressed, and probably want to go out with you. Hell, I'm sure a girl like that probably wouldn't even care if you are awkward!"

I'd never heard Bert say something so profound, he'd always been pretty silly and light-hearted. But it helped me out a whole lot.

"You're right Bert. Thanks."

"Well, I'm always right, Ralph!" This made me laugh, Bert was far from always right, he was wrong about many, many things, but I felt he probably was right about this.

"Hey, what's so funny?" Bert asked.

"Nothing, Bert."

"Ah. But, anyways, if I were you Ralph, I wouldn't be in any hurry to look for a girlfriend. You've got your whole life ahead of ya, no need to be in a rush."

Bert was right; I sort of had been in a rush.

"I guess I just felt kind of upset because everybody else didn't seem to have much of a problem getting one. I suppose I thought they were better than me."

"Better than you? No way, Ralphie boy, you're gonna probably have a high paying job someday, and probably live comfortably! If anything, you're better than them!"

"Hah, well, it's pretty late. Now that I think about it, I think we should be heading home Bert, before our parents start to worry we're out chasing some tail or something."

Bert laughed. "Hah, that's a good one Ralphie! Well, I'll see you later Ralph. Don't forget what I said!"

"I won't," I said, smiling. "You stay out of trouble."

I drove home that night feeling a lot better about myself.

* * *

><p>Soon it came time for graduation. Prior to that, we'd all learned what our class rank was. Surprise, surprise-Cedric was number one, and thus, our valedictorian! I wound up being ranked sixth in our class of sixty-five. Bert? He would up thirty-second.<p>

And then, before I knew it, it was our graduation night. The big night for Evergreen High's Class of 1980. We were all dressed up in our caps and gowns. Cedric was giving his motivational speech and thanking those who helped him along the way.

"I'd also like to thank my pop, Cyril Sneer, for helping me decide my career path, and for helping finance my college funding!"

Cyril stood up and cheered loudly, "Cedric! That's my boy! You're making your old man proud!"

Mr. Knox was seated beside him. "I should tell you, Cyril, I am most definitely NOT impressed." He growled.

"Ah, shush, Knox, this is my boy's big moment!"

Cedric continued, "I'd also like to thank my oldest and dearest friends, Bert Raccoon and Ralph Raccoon, for always being there for me and helping me get through my problems. Without them, I don't know if I could have survived high school!"

Everyone clapped for us. It was the proudest I'd felt so far in my life.

Soon, graduation was over. My parents were quite proud of me and they gave a considerable amount of money as a reward.

But then came the time we had to announce our majors.

Cedric was majoring in Business and Accounting. Bert decided to major in music, as it seemed he really did intend upon becoming a rock star.

My family was expecting me to tell them I was majoring in aviation. They were quite shocked when I told them I was majoring in journalism. However, my parents decided that no matter what career path I decided to take, they would support me all the way no matter what (though my dad was pretty upset that I would never get to give him a free ride in a beer blimp like he'd said he wanted me to do someday when I was younger).

However, Uncle Rocky did not take it so well. He felt I had betrayed him since I had promised him I would follow in his footsteps, and now, I wasn't. He got even more upset when I told him I had aerophobia. He actually went so far as to disown me as his nephew. This greatly upset me because I had been really close to him, and afterwards I dearly wanted to patch up our severed relationship. Sadly, Uncle Rocky passed away a couple years ago, at age sixty-eight, and it was one of the biggest things I regret in my whole life: not reconciling with him before his passing.

It wasn't much longer before Cedric, Bert, and I had to decide which college we wanted to go to.

I didn't want to go too far from home, and neither did Bert, so we both decided on the local Evergreen University. Cedric had decided to go to the University of British Columbia, which was quite a ways away. We were both sad to see him leave, but he promised us that he would keep in touch with us and contact us fairly regularly. Plus, he would come home for summer time.

Both Bert and I decided we wanted to live on campus and decided to live in the dorms. As luck would have it, due to the small size of Evergreen U. and the low amount of dormantories, we managed to end up becoming roommates. College wasn't going to be so bad.

Our freshman year flew by in a hurry. I was doing very well in my studies, and always did my reports and my assignments well ahead of time. Bert, on the other hand, was doing decently, but he was really slacking off in some of his classes. He had a few night classes during the week, too, and this messed up his sleeping schedule. Just like in high school, I ended up having to help him complete some of his assignments. Some things really didn't change.

Then came that one day in May.

I remember it just like it was yesterday…

**END CHAPTER 2**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Holy mother of god, that was one long chapter. In hindsight, perhaps I should have split this chapter up into two parts. But, I it was better to make this all one chapter, since I didn't want to have more than one chapter dedicated to Ralph's childhood. This took me almost two whole days to type. A LOT of liberty was taken with writing about Ralph's childhood, since we know very, very little of it from the actual show. As above, I do apologize if some scenes in this chapter were of a violent, disturbing, or depressing nature-normally my writing (for my own fiction) is silly, funny, and light-hearted. This is actually one of the most serious things I've ever written. In the next chapter, Ralph finally meets Melissa (SPOILER ALERT-not really, it's in the story's description) and there will be some funny scenes more typical of my actual writing to lighten up the mood of that chapter. There will also be some serious references to some contemporary motorsports figures, so be on the look-out.

The real names of the bands mentioned in this chapter: Tyrannosaurus Rex=Tyrannosaurus Rex, more popularly known as T. Rex; Frog the Hoople=Mott the Hoople (the very first band my mother saw in concert, in 1974); David Crowie=David Bowie; The Ravens=The Ramones; The Trash=The Clash, Pig Floyd=Pink Floyd (that should be obvious), The Moody Newts=The Moody Blues, Raspberry Grandfather Clock=Strawberry Alarm Clock.

Some final notes-what Ralph says about the Indianapolis 500 was true at the time (it really did air on tape delay), and the songs playing at the prom were actual hits in early 1980. Well, except for the Locomotion, but that is a timeless song, anyways. I think it should be at everybody's prom, but that is just me.

As I said before, read and review!


	3. Chapter 3: One More Rainy Day

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, here comes chapter 3. I don't have much to say for this chapter, other than this chapter will be more light-hearted than Chapter 2, and that there are references to numerous contemporary motorsports figures. My shortest author note yet!

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the rights to the Raccoons…blah blah blah. I'm pretty sure nobody reads these things more than once, so instead, perhaps I should place a quote here that has been inspirational to me for years, from one of my all-time favorite comedians, the late, great George Carlin. "As you swim the river of life, do the breast stroke. It helps to clear the turds from your path."_

_See? Wasn't that better than me posting the same disclaimer over and over again? And now, without further interruption…_

**Chapter 3: One More Rainy Day**

I remember it just like yesterday. It was a Sunday. May 24th. 1981.

I was sitting backstage at a big awards ceremony. I didn't know what I was getting an award for, but I figured it must be something important.

"And now, for his amazing exposé of the nuclear power plants dumping their nuclear waste into lakes and oceans," said a voice from on the stage, "we'd like to present one Ralph Raccoon with the Pulitzer Prize!"

The audience gasped, "Ooh, Pulitzer Prize."

I was stunned. I had won a Pulitzer Prize? How? I certainly didn't remember writing any article about nuclear power plants. I wish I had, but I didn't. But I didn't care; this was like a dream come true. So I walked up to the stage and to the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Johnstone." I said, unsure how exactly I knew his name. "First of all, if I may introduce myself, my name is Ralph Raccoon. I work for the _Vancouver Sun_," wait a minute, I worked for the _Sun? _Since when? "As honored as I am to accept this award, I'd rather not brag about my accomplishments and cut straight to the chase. I'm not really anything special; I'm just an ordinary reporter who happens to be interested in the well-being of the environment. I've never really trusted big business or the power plants, and I was determined to expose the dangers they provide to our environment. So, I-" I heard a number of people in the crowd snickering.

"Huh, what? What's so funny? It wasn't something I said, was it?" I didn't think anything I said was particularly funny.

"Not at all," said Mr. Johnstone, who strangely enough seemed to bear a heavy resemblance to Bert, "do go on, sir."

"Alright." I cleared my throat. "Now, as I was saying, I took it upon myself to interview the managers of the power plants to see if they were following their safety procedures properly. They didn't take kindly to the questions I asked, so I found myself being kicked out of their offices, one by one. So I decided to do some undercover investigation-I decided to hang around the nearby lakes to see if they were doing anything illegal to the lakes. And much to my surprise-" I was interrupted again, people were snickering. I'd had about enough of these people ruining my speech.

"Alright. If I may ask, what is so funny?"

"Erm, sir," Mr. Johnstone said, "Please take a moment to notice what you are wearing, or rather, the _lack _of what you should be wearing."

"Huh, what do you mea-" Then I looked down. I realized I had no fur except for the fur on my head! "Ah, good grief! _I'm naked!_"

The whole audience burst into a howling fit of laughter. This had gone from the greatest moment of my life to my worst nightmare come to life. I frantically tried to hide behind the podium, but that didn't stop the audience from continuing to laugh.

I didn't understand how this could happen. I could have sworn I had all my fur moments before. How did this happen? Why did this happen? I didn't know.

"Must be pretty embarrassing for you, Mr. Raccoon?" Mr. Johnstone asked.

"You bet. I don't know how any of this happened. How-how-how did-"

"You don't need to know. None of this is real anyways. Now wake up, you silly fool."

"What?" I was totally confused by what he'd just said. This wasn't real? But that could only mean-

Mr. Johnstone then grabbed me and started shaking me violently back and forth. "C'mon, wake up! Wake up! Wake up, sleepyhead!"

"Aaahhh!" I shouted.

"Wake up, wake up…"

* * *

><p>"Wake up! Wake up there, sleepyhead!" Now it was Bert's voice. I suddenly realized. That had all been nothing more than a dream. A very bizarre dream.<p>

"Huh, huh, what! I'm up, Bert. What's the matter?"

"Ralphie, don't you remember what today is?"

"No, is it something important?"

"Of course it is! Today is the day, of the INDIANAPOLIS 500!" Bert shouted gleefully, jumping up into the air.

Now I _did _remember. Bert had been talking about this for weeks and weeks. As I mentioned, Bert had become a serious fan of Indy Car racing when he was younger, and used to invite us over to his house to watch coverage of the "Greatest Spectacle in Racing," as the press dubbed it.

"Oh, yeah, now I remember," I said, rubbing my eyes, "wait a minute. That's tonight. They always air it at night on tape delay."

"Yeah, so?" Bert said, still giddy as could be.

"Uh, what time is it?"

"Oh! Why, it's 7:30 A. M., why do you ask?"

"Bert! Why did you have to get me up so early in the morning?"

"Oh, well, I didn't want ya to miss the Indy 500. Plus, I figured we could have a party for the race, or something or other."

"Bert, it's Sunday. We don't have any classes on Sunday, you did not have to get me up at this ungodly an hour of the morning!" Bert must have been _really _excited about this; he was not a morning person-at all! Usually it was _me _who had to wake him up in the morning.

"Heheh, sorry, pal," he chuckled, "just thought it would be a good idea to wake ya. You aren't mad, are you Ralph?"

I sighed.

"No, I'm not mad. Just a bit aggravated to be up at this hour on a weekend."

"I won't do it again, I promise." Bert said crossing his heart.

"It's alright." Bert was watching the color TV we had hooked up in our dorm. He'd actually purchased a fairly new piece of technology, a VCR. He had a couple of blank video tapes in the room. It seemed he planned to tape some stuff off the TV.

Meanwhile, I sat there, still thinking about that confusing dream I'd had where I had ended up minus my fur while being presented a Pulitzer Prize. I'd once read in a book that dreams could quite often be prophetic. I wondered if this dream somehow _was _prophetic. Did it have some hidden meaning? Did it mean I was doomed to fail at my prospective future career? I didn't know, so I decided to ask Bert what he thought it meant.

"Say, Bert. I had the strangest dream before you woke me up."

"That's nothing new for you, Ralphie boy; you're always having weird dreams. So what was it this time?"

"Well, I was up on a stage and they were awarding me the Pulitzer Prize."

"That doesn't sound too strange. I could see you doing that someday." Bert said.

"Yeah, but there was just one problem. I didn't have any fur. Everybody was laughing at me, and I tried to hide myself, but they could still see me and were still laughing at me."

"Huh, now that is pretty strange. So, you went up on stage naked to accept a Pulitzer Prize?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Just another one of your crazy dreams, I suppose." Bert shrugged.

"Perhaps, but I've been thinking about it for the past half hour or so, and I'm wondering. I read in a book once that dreams could have hidden meanings to them, and they could predict the future. What do you think, Bert?"

"I dunno, Ralph," Bert replied, "but, I don't think that dream means anything. Actually, I don't think dreams mean anything to begin with, really."

"Are you sure about that, Bert? I mean, that book did present some pretty convincing arguments…"

"I'm sure of it, Ralph." He then went back to watching TV; it was obvious he didn't want to discuss this any further.

I decided to change the subject. "So, Bert," I asked. "Who do you think will win the Indy 500?" I was nowhere near the fan of Indy Car racing that Bert was then; I was more of a casual fan, more interested in the race from a reporter's point of view. Plus, it was a good way to kill the free time I had today- watching the race.

"Ah, isn't it obvious?" he said, quite enthusiastically. I realized this wasn't the best subject for a conversation, I already knew what his response would be. "Why, this year, 1981, is the year that Tom Sneva will finally win the Indianapolis 500!"

"Hoo boy." I said, aloud. Tom Sneva was a raccoon Indy Car racer from Washington who'd been on the circuit for close to a decade. I'll never forget the first time I heard his name; it was 1975 and Cedric, Bert, and I were thirteen years old. We were gathered around the TV, watching the race, and Sneva was running in, I believe, third place, when with maybe sixty laps left in the race, he touched wheels with another car, flipped over, and flew into the wall and his car broke apart into many pieces. All that was left was the front half of his car that contained him. We all gasped, as we sure we'd just witnessed someone lose their life. Imagine our shock when we saw him crawl out of the remains of his car and walk to an ambulance! From that moment on, Bert became a fan of his instantly, and I still remember to this very day what he said after seeing him getting out of the car: "That Tom's invincible! Invincible, I tell you!" (Admittedly, the only reason he survived was probably because he hit with the back of the car.) Thanks to Bert, I knew far more about him than I ever wanted to know; he'd finished second at Indy three times, in 1977, 1978, and the previous year, 1980 (after starting last, no less), had qualified first for the race a couple of times, had won the Indy Car championship twice, in 1977 and in 1978 (without a win the second time, no less), and had done most anything you could do in an Indy Car-except win the big race.

"C'mon Ralph, you know it's true!" Bert said cheerfully.

"I don't know about that, Bert; you said he'd win last year, and the year before that. Matter of fact, just about every time we've watched this race, you've said he would win."

"Hey, he's bound to win it sooner or later!"

"So you think."

"But his accomplishments, Ralph! He won the title twice! Is there anything he can't do?"

"Win the Indy 500?"

"Dammit, Ralph, do you _have _to rub it in?" He didn't seem too pleased with my remark.

"Just saying, Bert. Don't be so sure that he's going to win."

"Well, if you're so smart, tell me who you think is going to win!"

"Uh…" I really had no clue; unlike Bert, I didn't have a favorite driver. "I suppose anyone of them could win, given the right circumstances."

Bert didn't seem to like that answer. "I don't think so, Ralph. Well, I managed to get the paper and they have the starting lineup, you pick out who you think you will win!"

Bert tossed the paper at me. It was none other than the _Vancouver Sun._ I quickly skimmed through the lineup, quickly noticing they listed the team each driver drove for. Then something caught my eye.

"Bert, what's this?"

"What's what?"

"Look at this," I said, pointing to one of the drivers listed, "starting 24th, Pete Howlsmer, Sneer Racing? Bert? Since when was there a 'Sneer Racing'?"

"Oh, well, Cedric called me the other day Ralph. It seems that he's actually at Indianapolis. Seems that his 'pop' started his own racing team."

Now I was curious. "Cyril Sneer is running an Indy Car team? When did this happen?"

"Well, it seems that three new pig employees of his convinced him that there was a lot of money to be made as a race car team owner, so he quickly slapped together a team, purchased a few cars, and hired a driver."

"That might not be a good idea; he probably has no idea how bad the cars he purchased probably are. They're most likely no good." I really thought that Cyril had been conned, which had happened several times before.

"Well, they were at least good enough to make the field!" Bert laughed. "There were a lot of cars who didn't, including Mr. Knox's two cars."

"Mr. Knox has a team too?"

"So it would seem."

"Well, Bert," I said chuckling, "I have a feeling Cyril's gonna have a fit during this race when his car drops out!"

"You're right, Ralph!" Bert said, as we both laughed. "Maybe we can get to see Cyril throw a temper tantrum on TV!"

We both laughed, but then Bert asked seriously, "But seriously, Ralph, who do ya think will win today?"

"Um," I said, quickly looking at the lineup and picking out a prospective winner, "I'll have to go with….A. J. Frog."

"A. J. Frog? That old guy? Puh, he's washed up!" A. J. Frog was another legendary Indy Car driver, a frog (obviously), who had become the first driver to win the race four times. He had also won the championship numerous times, and he was (I believe) the driver with the most career wins in the sport. Not to mention, he'd been down South in the Southern US a few times to drive in NASCAR and had won that sport's biggest race, the Daytona 500, and had also been to Europe and won the 24 Hours of Le Mans. His name was pretty much synonymous with the sport; there really was no doubt he was one of the greatest to have ever driven a race car.

"I don't know, Bert, he won it a few years ago, remember?"

"Yeah, but c'mon, Ralph, he's too old. He's what now, almost fifty?"

"I think so, but he still is pretty fast for his age; I wouldn't count him out."

"Yeah, whatever."

Bert soon asked another question, "Say Ralph, do you think I could be an Indy Car champion some day?"

"Eh…" I said, not wanting to burst his bubble, but I figured I had to tell him the honest truth. "I don't think too many Indy Car teams are looking for somebody who studied music in college."

"They aren't?"

"No, Bert, I'm pretty sure they would be looking for someone who studied mechanical engineering."

"But, not all of those guys studied engineering, Ralph. In fact, some of them never went to college!"

"Hmm…" I thought. "Even so, I'm pretty sure all of them come from a mechanical background. You haven't exactly been the best when dealing with automotive work, Bert."

"Ah, darn…"

We talked a little while more, and then Bert realized: "Oh! We've been chatting for a while; we haven't had anything to eat. You think we should have breakfast?"

"I think so, Bert." My stomach was growling.

"Well, Ralph, I know just what we can eat!" He said enthusiastically again. I groaned. I knew exactly what he was planning to make. He made this just about every morning and I was quite sick of eating it. "My trademark…peanut butter French Toast!"

"Bert, you make that _every _morning. Don't you get tired of it?"

"Nah, one can never have enough peanut butter!"

"I think I'll pass Bert. I think I'll head down to Lassater's Café to go pick up a bite to eat. You can have your peanut butter."

"You don't like it?"

"Well, Bert," I replied, "it's not that I don't like it, it's just that I'd prefer not to eat it every day. I'm gonna be heading out Bert. See you in a bit." As I walked out the door, I heard him muttering to himself, "Some people just have no taste."

* * *

><p>What luck I had. Today, it was raining, and the road was wet, so I had to drive slowly. Luckily, it wasn't too far a drive to Lassater's –only about a five minute drive. Soon I arrived and entered the restaurant. It'd be nice to get out of the rain.<p>

Before there was the Blue Spruce Café, there was Lassater's. It was owned by a local man, a wolf by the name of Ritchie Lassater, and he had opened the place up not too long before, it'd only been opened about a year. I still visited the place often, especially on the weekends when Bert was making his peanut butter breakfasts. Over all the place had a pretty friendly atmosphere to it, the waitresses were nice, Mr. Lassater was a nice guy, and they even had a nice jukebox you could put two quarters in and pick out the song you wanted to hear. They had hits from the mid '50s to the late '70s on there, and you could even choose between the A-sides and the more obscure B-sides. It's a shame they closed down just a few years ago when Lassater went bankrupt.

I walked up to the counter.

"Ah, hello, Ralph," said Frances, the person behind the counter (I'd been here enough that we were on a first name basis), "what'll be today?"

"Ah…" I thought aloud, looking at their menu really quick. "I suppose I will have a cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts. Make that a cup of mocha java, please."

"Sure thing," she said, "that'll be five dollars and fifty cents."

"Here ya go." I said paying for my breakfast. While I waited for my breakfast, I went over to the jukebox, since I decided I'd pick out a song, like I usually did when I came here. I'd yet to see everything they had on there, so I figured I'd check it out.

"Your order is ready, Ralph." Frances called.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, taking the cup of coffee and the plate of doughnuts (I'd gotten three) from her.

"Now enjoy your meal, dear."

I smiled and went back to the jukebox and placed my breakfast on the counter behind me. I flipped through what they had.

"Let's see…Rod Salamander, no…the Eagles, no…Jefferson Biplane, maybe some other time…Blue Oyster Cult, definitely not…ah-ha!" I found something I liked. It was an old single by one of my favorite bands when I was younger, Canada's very own Guess Hoo. They used to be really big when I was a kid, but they'd since broken up and reformed without their two main songwriters. I knew the A-side pretty well, but I hadn't heard the B-side in a long time, so I selected the B-side. I liked this particular song. I walked towards my seat by the window singing along to the song, not really paying attention to what I was doing.

"_Lonely feeling_

_Deep inside_

_Find a corner_

_Where I can hide_

_Silent footsteps_

_Crowding me_

_Sudden darkness_

_But I can see!_

_No sugar tonight, in my coffee!_

_No sugar tonight, in my tea!_

_No sugar to stand beside me!_

_No sugar to run with-_OOF!"

"Hey!"

I hadn't even noticed where I'd been walking. I was so focused on singing along to the song; I'd ended up bumping into somebody. Just when I thought I was overcoming my klutzy, cowardly reputation, I had to screw up again.

I found myself face to face with a girl raccoon about the same age as me, give or take a year. My cup of coffee had spilled all over her and now I had an empty cup of coffee. Plus I'd ruined her shirt. "Great going, Ralph," I thought to myself. How ironic that I had just been singing a song that had been about coffee!

"Oh, my goodness, I'm sorry, I really am, it was an accident, I didn't see where I was going," I said, apologizing for my klutzy behavior.

"No, no, that's okay. I'm not mad," she said. "I didn't see you coming. Perhaps I can buy you another cup of coffee?"

"No, that won't be necessary," I replied, "it's really my fault. I was too busy singing this song and I didn't even see you."

"Well, no need to point the finger then. But I do feel bad about ruining your cup of coffee. Tell you what, I'll buy you another one and we can have a talk. How's that sound?"

"Uh, good, I guess?" I was now kind of nervous. This girl wanted to have a cup of coffee with me? That was new to me.

She bought another cup for me and then we sat down at a seat looking out the window. It was a gloomy view outside, as the rain was coming down harder.

"So," she said. "What's your name?"

"Oh, uh…" I found myself getting tongue tied. Talking to girls had never been something that I had been especially good at.

"Well?"

"R-Ralph Raccoon."

"Ah, nice to meet you Ralph! My name's Melissa Mulligan. So, do you go to Evergreen University too?"

"Uh, ah, why, yes I do."

"That's neat! So what do you study?"

"Oh, ah, well, I'm studying journalism, in the hopes that one day I might work for a newspaper."

"Really? I'm studying photojournalism," she replied.

"Photojournalism? Wow, so we're into similar fields of study…." I was surprised. She was an aspiring journalist too. I'd never met a girl interested in journalism before.

"Hey, maybe someday, we might work for the same paper!" She giggled. I laughed too.

"Hah, well, that'd be the day." I said.

"You never know!" she said. She was right, you never know for sure.

"Ah. So what's your story? What made you study photojournalism?" I was feeling a little more confident talking to her now.

"There hasn't been a time I wasn't fascinated by a camera. When I was just a little girl, my dad bought me a camera and I used to go around and take pictures of things I'd see around the street where I lived. When I graduated high school, I decided I wanted a career behind the lens."

"Ah, fascinating." I said. "I used to read the newspaper and watch the news-my parents had a black and white TV I'd watch. I used to try to solve the crossword puzzle-even though I didn't know half the words back then. I also was the editor for my high school's newspaper."

"I never really figured out those crossword puzzles," Melissa replied.

"I could show you how to do them sometime."

"That'd be nice," she replied.

"So," I asked, trying to learn more about her, "where are you from? I never saw you at Evergreen High."

"Oh, well, my dad and I moved here from Prince Rupert," she explained. "We moved about a year and a half ago. No wait, actually, close to two years ago. It's nice living out here in the forest-the city's too noisy for me!"

"I don't think I could ever make it in the city. I've visited there before; I couldn't take all the noise. All those cars, and their loud horns, well I couldn't stand it."

"I don't blame you," Melissa answered. "The city is full of pollution, and the air isn't very good there at all."

"Hah, no wonder I had coughing fits when I went there." We both chuckled.

"So, Ralph, is this your first year in college?"

"Yes, it is. Same for you?"

"Oh, no, I'm in my second year. About to be in my third year soon."

"I can't believe my freshman year is already almost over." I meant that too, it felt like only yesterday that I'd started.

"I guess we'll be out of college in no time," Melissa said.

"You're right," I agreed, "and you know what? I thought college was going to be outstandingly hard, but it isn't as hard as I thought it'd be."

"No, it's not that hard, all you have to is listen carefully to the professors and complete your assignments on time."

"My roommate is having some trouble doing that!"

We both talked for a while longer, until I looked at the clock on the wall and realized…

"Oh dear! Melissa, it's been great meeting you and all, but I've got to get back to the dorms. I kind of told my roommate I was just going out for a bite to eat and that I'd be right back, he's probably wondering where on earth I could be."

"That's okay, Ralph, we can talk anytime."

"Really?"

"Sure, I don't mind. I like you Ralph, you seem to a pretty nice guy. I think we'll be great friends."

I wasn't quite sure what to say about that.

"Uh, hmm. Some might say that about me, but, I think we might too. But I have to go, my roommate is…well…really excited because today is the day of the Indianapolis 500 and he wants me to watch the race with him, so, I'll see you later."

"Bye, Ralph!" She waved.

It was absolutely pouring down rain as I left Lassater's, but somehow I didn't seem to mind. I'd just made a new friend in Melissa Mulligan, and everything seemed great. Who would've thought spilling coffee on someone would lead to friendship? I didn't know what the outcome of this new friendship would be. Would be the best of friends? Maybe more? I didn't know for sure, but, one thing I did know.

Bert was right on that night of my disastrous senior prom-college was a lot better than high school. Things seemed to be looking up for me.

**END CHAPTER 3**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** As I said, I think this was a less depressing chapter than the last one. Things are now looking up for Ralph in life-but what will become of it?

By the way, the opening scene of this chapter (Ralph's dream) was inspired by a scene from an episode of _Family Guy _(a dream that Stewie Griffin had).

The song you see in this chapter is "_No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature_" by the Guess Who (changed to Hoo for this story), released as the B-side of the big hit single "_American Woman_" in 1970. They are not copyright of me, they belong to their respective owner.

One more note, all the drivers mentioned in this chapter are real; Tom Sneva really was an Indy Car racer in the 1970s and 1980s, the accident mentioned was a real-life accident he had, and the stats listed are correct at the time-he really had finished second at Indy three times, started first twice, and had won two national championships (he would go on to finally win the 500 in 1983). I tried to think up an alternate name for him that would fit for the Raccoons universe, but I couldn't think of anything that didn't sound utterly stupid (Drop me a line if you can think of one that doesn't sound utterly dumb). Pete Halsmer (whose name I changed to Howlsmer for this story) was a 2-time starter of the race (obviously not for Cyril Sneer in real life, though) and A. J. Frog is obviously A. J. Foyt, considered perhaps the greatest race car driver of all time.

I think it is painfully obvious that I am a motorsports enthusiast.

Anyways, as always, read and review!


	4. Chapter 4: Nothing At All

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Not much to say this time, for once. Oh, except for the fact that this will probably be the last chapter featuring a lot of mentions to motorsports figures of the early 1980s.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I don't own the Raccoons…Instead of repeating that, I'd like to take the moment to pose something to you. What if the Raccoons were to be revived in the modern era? It would certainly be very interesting to see the differences between the original series and a new series set in the present day. Of course, they'd have to recast some of the voices: Bert's voice actor, Len Carlson, and Cedric's voice actor, Marvin Goldhar, have both gone to the great forest in the sky since the show has ended. I'm not sure if Ralph's voice actor, Bob Dermer, and Cyril's voice actor, Michael Magee, are even still doing voice acting anymore (I wasn't able to find anything that indicated they still were). So my question is, if a modern revival were made, who would you want to be cast as the new voices for the characters? Personally, for Bert, I'd have to nominate Dan Castellaneta, who is most famous for voicing Homer Simpson and numerous other characters from the Simpsons (though I'll also never forget him for playing Earthworm Jim in the wacky, but unfortunately short-lived cartoon series based on the classic videogame). Just as long as he doesn't use his Barney Gumble voice for Bert (I actually imagined Bert speaking with Barney Gumble's voice. It was…jarring, to say the least). As for the others…I'm not too sure._

_But anyways…_

**CHAPTER 4: Nothing At All**

After a few minutes, I managed to get back to my dorm. I hoped Bert wouldn't be too upset at my rather lengthy absence. As a matter of fact, Bert didn't even notice me come in at first: it'd seemed he'd gotten tired of waiting for me, and now he had his guitar hooked up and was practicing some songs. Bert just could not seem to pick a personal favorite genre of music; it had been glam rock during the latter days of elementary school, and punk rock in high school. Now he was into several genres, but most of all, he'd taken in interest in heavy metal and the finger-flashing guitar "gods" of the past decade, among them Ritchie Quackmore, Jimmy Crane, Jeff Cluck, and Eddie Van Hooten. He had developed quite a taste for groups such as Blue Oyster Cult, Steel Airship, Deep Blue, Van Hooten and Double Rainbow. I personally had little interest in metal music at all; I thought it was much too loud for my taste. He'd later develop an interest in fur metal, which featured bands such as Twisted Brother, Def Leopard, and Whitesnake-but I'd rather not share my opinion on _them_…

Bert was playing a song I well recognized, an old song that was a hit when I was a really young kit that had been performed by a British group called the Kooks. However, the version he was playing was obviously inspired by the cover that Van Hooten had done that was now considerably more well known. I personally didn't care much for their cover version at all, but Bert did; although he was not doing a very good job at playing the song.

After a while Bert eventually noticed I'd come back, so he put his guitar down. "There ya are, Ralphie!" He said. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I went to the café, remember?"

"Yeah, but you usually aren't gone that long. You were gone…almost an hour and a half?"

I looked at the clock on our wall. Indeed, that was about how long I'd been gone.

"Sorry, Bert, I lost track of the time, I guess."

Bert, however, wasn't having any of that. "No, Ralph, that's not like you at all. What happened? Did the place catch on fire? Was there a fight? Did a car crash through the wall?"

Bert was just speculating, but I answered, truthfully, "No, Bert, I met someone."

"Met someone, eh? Who?"

"Ah…a girl."

"A girl? Hah, well good for you, Ralphie! So you've got a girlfriend now?"

"No, not exactly. I…uh…I sort of spilled my coffee on her."

Bert shook his hand. "Ralphie, Ralphie, Ralphie…what are we gonna do about you…"

"But she was pretty nice about it. We ended up talking for a while, and it seems like we're friends now."

"Hah, good for you Ralph!" Bert slapped me on the back.

"Hey, don't do that!"

"Sorry, Ralph. But I was right, wasn't I? I told you things would get better in college!"

"It certainly seems that way." I'd hoped he'd been right when he told me that nearly a year ago, and it looked like he was. For once.

"So, Ralph, what's her name?"

"Uh…Melissa Mulligan."

"Is she the daughter of that bartender?"

"Bartender, what bartender?" She hadn't told me anything about her father being a bartender.

"You don't know? The one who opened up the new bar about a year and a half ago."

Now I remembered. "Oh. That same one that you and a bunch of our high school classmates were prank calling last year, I'm assuming?"

"Yeah, that's the one!" You see, right around the time we hit high school, prank calls had started to become a quite popular activity. Bert and some of my other, rather mischievous classmates would call stores, bars, and even businessmen like Cyril Sneer asking if their refrigerator was running or asking if someone who happened to have a name that was actually very crude was there. I didn't really see the appeal in it at all, but Bert seemed to.

"So that's her father?" I asked.

"Yeah. At least, I think so…"

I would have never taken her to be the daughter of a guy running a second home for the forest's alcoholics.

"So, Ralph," Bert asked, "do you think you have a shot with her?"

That was rather sudden.

"Uh, Bert, I think it is way too early to be even thinking about that, don't you?" Bert was thinking way too many steps ahead.

"I don't Ralph; it sounds to me like she's interested in you."

"Bert, I barely even know Melissa. I just _met _her. I think that's far too soon to be thinking that far ahead." Sometimes I didn't know about Bert…

"Not if she's interested in ya!"

Oh boy.

"It was you who told me I shouldn't be in a hurry to look for a girlfriend, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was, but, c'mon Ralph. If she's interested in you, you can't pass the opportunity up!"

I really didn't want to discuss this anymore than we already had.

"Bert, enough, please."

Bert didn't get the hint.

"If she wanted you to go out with her, would ya turn her down?"

That was _not _a question I wanted to answer at this stage.

"Uh…I…um…" I said, my face glowing red with embarrassment, "I..uh…I suppose not?"

"See, Ralphie? You two were made for each other!"

I just shook my head.

Soon Bert calmed down and we were watching the local news. Then, we got a phone call.

It was Cedric, from Indianapolis. I took it that meant that the race had already ended.

Bert picked up the phone. I could overhear their conversation:

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bert! This is Cedric!"

"Hey Cedric! So how was Indianapolis?"

"It was great, Bert. There's a great atmosphere around here. I got to visit Gasoline Alley, and meet most of the drivers. I got a bunch of autographs."

"Really, you did? Of who?"

"Oh, most of the drivers! I have Bobby and Al Brunser, Rick Shears, Danny Owlgais, A. J. Frog, Gordy Johncluck, Mario Hendretti, Johnny Wolverford, well, I have all their autographs. I also have all of the rookie drivers' autographs."

Bert then asked excitedly, "Do you have…?"

"Yes, Bert! I have Tom Sneva's autograph. He really was a nice guy! Did you know he was a high school math teacher before he drove at Indy?"

Bert was overjoyed. "Wow-ee! Tom Sneva's autograph! I can't wait to see it!"

Cedric said, "Oh, I'll be sure to show it to you during the summer."

"Wow, I can hardly wait!"

Bert then asked, "So, Cedric, how was the race?"

"It was a good one, Bert. Wish you could have been here-it was very competitive!"

"Did Tom Sneva win?" Of course Bert would ask that.

"You'll have to watch and find out, Bert-I don't want to give away what happened."

"C'mon Cedric, you can at least tell me who won!"

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you the finish was very controversial!"

I overheard that part loud and clear. Controversial finish? My news writer instincts were kicking in-that would make a good story for Evergreen U's paper (although we were a small college, we did have a paper that I worked on). Usually we only reported local happenings around the Evergreen Forest or stuff that was going on around campus, but sometimes we'd report bigger events, such as world news and sporting events.

"Well, I can hardly wait to watch it! Say Cedric, what happened to your pop's driver, Howlsmer or whatever. Did he do well? Is he rookie of the year?"

"Well, that I can answer Bert-let me just say that Pop wasn't too happy with the outcome!"

So it was exactly as I thought. Sneer Racing had dropped out of the Indy 500. How many laps they'd lasted was the only thing I didn't know yet.

"Haha! I'm glad you had a good time, Cedric!"

"Yes, maybe if Pop does this again next year, I might be able to get you and Ralph tickets."

Bert nearly had a heart attack upon hearing that.

"You-you mean-I might get to meet…Tom…Sneva?"

"It's possible, Bert!"

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!"

Personally, I didn't want to see the race in person myself, but if I were offered a ticket, I don't honestly think I would have passed it up.

"So, if I may ask Bert, what have you and Ralph been up to since the last time I called?"

"Oh, me and Ralphie boy have been doing great. Hey, guess what, Cedric?"

I was hoping he wasn't about to tell Cedric what I thought he _might _tell him.

"What's that?" I heard Cedric ask.

"Cedric, Ralph's got a girlfriend!" I groaned. There weren't many things I didn't like about Bert, but this was something I did not like-he had a tendency to start running his mouth when he got excited about something.

"Gee, really, Bert? That's great! I knew all that hard work Ralph does would pay dividends for him someday!"

Why did Bert have to do this? Why? I slapped my face with my paw. I should have never brought this up with him.

"I told him he could do it Cedric. I knew he'd find the right one someday!"

Ugh.

"Well, tell Ralph I wish him and his newfound love the best of luck, and I can't wait to see them this summer!"

"Oh, I will, Cedric. He's right here, actually."

"Well, that's good. I'll catch you later Bert, I've got to go catch the plane with my Pop soon to head back to UBC!"

"Bye, Cedric." Bert hung up the phone.

I was scowling at Bert as he looked at me.

Bert gulped. "You heard all that, didn't ya?"

"I did, Bert. As a matter of fact, I heard every word of it."

"You're upset now, aren't you?" Bert looked a little nervous.

"A little, yes." I said.

"Gee, uh, I'm sorry Ralph…"

I sighed. I couldn't stay upset at him for too long, even if he had embarrassed me; I knew he hadn't intended to do that.

"It's okay Bert. But please, if you don't mind, you shouldn't be telling everybody that Melissa and I are going out. I don't even know if that'll end up happening. Plus, things like that get around, and I'm sure it'll get back to her sooner or later."

"Okay, you got it, pal."

Soon, it was dark and it was almost time for the race to come on.

"Oh boy!" Bert exclaimed. "It's almost time!"

"Yeah, Bert." I said, gathering together a pen and a notepad to write down notes about the race for the article I'd be writing about it.

"But first…" Bert said, chuckling to himself, "A little _pre-race entertainment."_

I didn't understand. "What do you mean, pre-race entertainmen-" Much to my surprise, Bert picked up the phone again.

"Bert, you're not going to…?"

He was, however. He was dialing the local bar-the very same one that I now knew Melissa's father ran (There were actually two bars in the Evergreen Forest, and Bert knew the numbers of both of them). He'd done this before and he was about to do it again.

"Bert, no, don't call that place…"

It was too late.

I heard the gruff voice of Mr. Mulligan answer.

"Hello, this is Mike's Beer Emporium," answered Mr. Mulligan (his first name was Mike), "home of the best beer around the Evergreen Forest. How may I help you?"

Bert quickly spoke: "Ah, I'm trying to find a friend of mine who I believe is there. His name's Jacques."

I realized exactly what dirty name he was going to use right away. He'd used this before on the other bar.

"Jacques, you say?" asked Mr. Mulligan.

"Yeah. His last name is Strappe."

"Okay. I'll see if I can find him for you. Ah…is there a Jacques Strappe here? Jacques Strappe? Folks, I'm trying to find me a Jacques Strappe here, has anybody seen a Jacques Strappe?"

I could hear the whole bar burst into laughter, my own father was probably among them.

The voice of one of the patrons could be heard, "You ever try looking in a sporting goods store?"

"Wait a minute. You said you were looking for a Jacques Strappe…oh." Mr. Mulligan said, not happy at all, realizing he'd been had.

"You dirty little snot-nosed _prick_! Listen to me here, bub, if I ever find out who you are, I'm gonna take a screwdriver and twist your eyeballs out of your eye-sockets! Then I'm gonna shove them up your rear end so you can get a first-hand look of me kicking your ass! And then, I'll cut your chest cavity open and slice your heart up into little pieces!"

Bert was laughing, hard. I wasn't. Why did he have to do that?

"Now don't call me again, buddy!" I heard the phone hang up.

Bert was crying tears of mirth. "So, Ralph. What'd ya think?"

"Delightful, Bert," I said sarcastically. "By the way, you are aware that was Mr. Mulligan's bar, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah." Bert said, sheepishly. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"What do you think?"

"Sorry, Ralph," Bert apologized. "Didn't know that would bother you."

"Bert, I thought I'd just like to remind you that we have a paper due for Professor Leffler due this Wednesday. You haven't started on it, have you?" Professor Leffler was the only class we had together at all. He taught a history class.

"Uh oh..." Bert said, realizing something. "I haven't even started on mine..."

"I already finished mine last week. I take it you'll want help again?"

He looked at me. "Well, if you don't mind, buddy..."

I sighed. "Sure, why not. I'll help you do your research. But remember, you have to type it up in your own words, Bert. Rememeber?"

"I got ya Ralphie. Loud and clear."

"Good, then."

Then it was time for the race to come on TV. Even though I'd picked A. J. Frog to win the race, it didn't really matter to me who won-so long as nobody got hurt. The very first year we'd watched the race, there had been a bad crash at the start that injured one driver and hurt severa of thel fans, and another crash later on that caused fatal injuries to another driver, Swede Savagely.

It would have been nice to have a Canadian driver in the field to cheer for, though. Sadly, there were none entered in the race. The field was made mostly up of drivers from the US, a handful of Australians, and one driver from Mexico.

Bobby Brunser, Mike Rosely, and A. J. Frog were on the front row as they took the green flag, and at the start, Brunser got ahead, as Tom Sneva, Rick Shears, and Mario Hendretti, all top-ranked drivers, were fighting to move up from their starting spots in the middle of the field.

Rosely quickly dropped out after only fifteen laps or so, and soon after, Johnny Wolverford, the defending winner of the race, took the lead. But just a few laps after he took the lead his car slowed as well, and he stopped on the track and brought out the yellow flag for the first time. Brunser got the lead back, but shortly afterward, Don Bittington crashed and brought another caution period. The new leader was now none other than…Tom Sneva, who rocketed out front on the restart and had a massive lead on second place Gordon Smelly, a skunk racer in his second career start at this speedway. Rick Shears soon moved his way into second.

"Go Tom! Go! You can do it!" Bert cheered wildly.

That day it looked like he did have the fastest car, but when it came time for pit stops, both Sneva and Shears had problems: Sneva stalled his car on his pit stop and went numerous laps behind (he'd eventually drop out of the race altogether with a parts failure), while Shears' car burst into flames abruptly behind him and he was out of the race altogether.

Just moments later, what I'd hoped I wouldn't happened…happened. There was a horrifying accident on the track. Danny Owlgais, an owl racer from the tropical islands of Hawaii called the "Flying Hawaiian" by some, lost control of his car and crashed horribly. I won't even bother describing this accident, because the memory still sticks in my mind to this day. Let's just say, it looked like he had not survived the accident. I almost threw up when they showed the…aftermath of the crash.

"Bert," I said, covering my eyes. "Please, change the channel, if you don't mind. I don't want to watch anymore of this."

"Gee..." Bert said, not sure what had happened. "I hope that guy's alright…"

Bert later told me they showed a few replays of the accident, but I couldn't bear to watch the race anymore until they were past the halfway point. By then, it was a battle between Gordy Johncluck, Bobby Brunser, Mario Hendretti, and a rookie driver from Mexico, an armadillo by the name of Josele Garza.

Halfway through the race, Pete Howlsmer and Sneer Racing were still running, but with maybe sixty laps to go, Howlsmer lost control of his car and backed it into the wall. He would finish exactly where he started, in twenty-fourth. Needless to say, Cyril Sneer was interviewed on TV by the television crew, and he…was not happy to say the least.

"No! This is an outrage!" He was shouting to the reporter, directly into the microphone. "I thought we had a better car than this. How could we end up losing so badly? How could this happen? Someone ripped me off!" As I'd expected we would, both Bert and I ended up chuckling over his interview.

Two more quick crashes happened, wiping out contenders Josele Garza and Gordon Smelly. This left just Brunser, Johncluck, and Hendretti in contention, but Brunser did something rather questionable…he passed about fifteen cars coming out of the pits; something the broadcasters openly said was a "No-no". We wondered if he'd get in trouble for that.

Johncluck eventually went out of the race when his car stopped running, and Brunser would end up winning over Hendretti…or did he? The broadcast team told us that Hendretti would be filing a protest against Brunser to have his win taken away for his…erm…stunt. As for A. J. Frog? He had a rough race and finished in thirteenth place, numerous laps behind.

"Boy, Ralph. That was quite some race, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Do you think they'll take the win away from Brunser?"

"I don't know, Bert. I'd say the chances are…fifty-fifty, perhaps."

We then went to bed that night.

As I said earlier, it was a day I'd never forget. The day I met my future wife. (Though I certainly did not know that at the time). And a day Bert would never forget either: the day of an Indianapolis 500.

Soon, however, summer would be upon us again…

**END CHAPTER 4**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This is the last chapter featuring actual sporting events playing a semi-starring role, so if that did not catch your interest any, the next chapter will be better (I always will be saying that, it seems.) If anyone wants to know the real names of all of the drivers, then I will gladly message their real names.

Yes, Bert's prank call is straight out of a first-season episode of _The Simpsons_. However, Bart Simpson is _hardly _the originator of these prank phone call names. They were around at least a decade previously, and as far as I know first started frequently being used in the mid-1970s.

And for those who don't know, Gasoline Alley is the name of the garage area at Indianapolis.

In the next chapter, Melissa's father is properly introduced, and we also get to see some of Ralph's, Melissa's, and Bert's summer...

Continue reading and reviewing, as always.


	5. Chapter 5: Long Summer Days

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **From this chapter onwards, sports figures will cease to appear in this story (only as passing mentions). Rejoice!

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__As always, I don't own the Raccoons. I would think of something witty to say or pose a question to the reviewers here, but since this is another long chapter, I feel I'd be better off leaving that out this time._

**Chapter 5: Long Summer Days**

Soon, summer came. As expected, I did well in all my classes. Bert had slacked off in some of his studies, but I had managed to help him, and he was able to pass all his classes. He was rather thankful for my help-as he told me, "Thanks, Ralphie. I don't know if I'd have gotten through all my classes without your help!"

As for that Indianapolis 500, Bobby Brunser indeed did get his win taken away and given to Mario Hendretti, but a few months later they voted to give Brunser his win back and instead fine him a large amount of money. What a dreadful mess. As for the driver badly injured, Danny Owlgais, he (much to our surprise) recovered and would return to race again.

Cedric had also come back home from UBC and we were now hanging out again, catching up on times we'd missed while we'd been at separate colleges. He was continuing to excel in his studies. When he came back, the first thing he showed us was his autograph book, which indeed was full of autographs of the race car drivers he met at Indy (all but perhaps five drivers had given him their autograph). He ended up giving it to Bert, who needless to say was thrilled to have Tom Sneva's autograph-which said "To my number one fan, Bert-Tom Sneva". Obviously Cedric had talked to Tom and told him about Bert. Bert nearly had a heart attack reading that. He still has the autograph book today somewhere around here (I believe it's under his bed).

It turned out we couldn't stay at our dorms in the summertime, so we ended up building a house deep in the Forest. This would later turn out to be our Raccoondominium, but of course, we didn't know that at the time. We needed to find jobs to be able to pay the rent for our house, so both Bert and I picked up summer jobs. I decided to work for Lassater's helping wipe off the tables (it wasn't a very lucrative job, I admit, but it did bring in a paycheck, so I couldn't knock the job), while Bert did some odd jobs around the forest, eventually working at Mr. Willow's store helping stack goods on the aisles. It wasn't before long that he started complaining that this job was too demanding, but when I told him we needed the money, he stopped complaining. We would put our money together to help pay the rent.

Since I was working at Lassater's, I ended up speaking to a lot of the customers, and one of those customers was, Melissa. We'd spoken a few times since we'd met there a month or so ago, but this was the first time she'd stopped at the café since I'd started working there.

I was cleaning up a table where a customer had knocked their coffee over and spilled it all over the place when she came in.

She waved to me. "Hi, Ralph. Fancy seeing you here. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, I work here now."

"You work here now? When'd this happen?"

"A couple of weeks ago. Since our first year at college ended my friend and I are now living in our own house out here, and I sort of needed the money to pay the rent for the place, so here I am."

"Doesn't seem like the best job, what with having to clean up after everybody's messes," she mused.

"Well, it's either this, or have no place to stay," I said.

"Ah, I understand. Wouldn't want that now, would we?" she said, giggling.

"No, we wouldn't!" I said laughing as well.

"So, Ralph. How did you do your first year in college? I think I did alright-I have only two more years to go!"

"I think I did reasonably well enough. My roommate, eh…not as well." As I said, Bert had slacked off somewhat-he'd been majoring in music and ended up in a music appreciation course, which meant he had to listen to music he had little to no interest in, such as classical compositions, and write reports on them (as it turned out, the teacher did not have much of an interest in rock music, having once played in a symphony orchestra, and thus the two of them butted heads from time to time).

"Well, that's good. Say, I haven't met your friend yet."

"Ah, no, you haven't." To be honest, I was a bit afraid to introduce her to Bert. You see, he'd said he'd stop teasing me about Melissa, but he hadn't really. The difference was that instead of calling her my girlfriend, he was now basically trying to find a way to set us up together. I was worried he was going to embarrass myself in front of her.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to meet your friend."

Uh oh. That might not turn out well. But, Bert and I had been planning to go fishing a few days from now. Perhaps I could invite her to come with us.

"Funny story. The both of us were going to go fishing this weekend. I don't suppose you'd be interested in coming along with us, would you?"

"Not at all. I'd love to," Melissa replied.

Now I did get pretty nervous. Nervous about what Bert was going to say.

"That's terrific!" I said, although not very enthusiastically.

"So what day are you going?" she asked, smiling.

"This Saturday," I said. That was two days from today.

"Okay then. Meet at my place, you can meet my dad."

"Where do you live? I don't know exactly where you live, you haven't told me." She hadn't, so I didn't know exactly where to go.

"Oh, that's easy! I live near Willow's store, maybe a minute or so away. You can't miss it."

"I'm looking forward to it." I just hoped Bert wouldn't mess everything up.

"Well, I've got to get going Ralph. My dad probably wants me home soon. It's nice seeing you again."

I thought her father was at work running his bar.

"Uh, isn't your father at work?"

"At work? No, the bar doesn't open until 7:30 at night." It was about one in the afternoon.

"Ah, well, I suppose I'll catch you Sunday, Melissa."

"Sure thing. See you later Ralph," she said waving as she left.

I was looking forward to going fishing with her. But on the other hand, I wasn't really looking forward to what Bert would have to say.

What was I to do?

Soon my shift ended and I went back home. Bert had already gotten off work (we both worked from 8:00 in the morning to 3:00 in the afternoon, 4 days a week; we had Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off), and greeted me when I came in.

"Hey Ralphie!" Bert shook my hand.

"Hello, Bert. How was your day of work?"

"I tell ya, Ralph, it was a tough one. Mr. Willow got a truck load of cereal delivered in today and it was my job to stack it all on the shelf. I tried to put it all up at once, and they all fell and I nearly got crushed under a bunch of cereal boxes. Fortunately, I was able to crawl out from under there and get them on the shelf. It was quite a day!"

I laughed a bit.

"Sounds like it. My day was pretty uneventful."

"Was it now?" Bert asked, suspiciously. It seemed he thought I had something to hide from him.

"Yeah. Nothing much happened."

"Are you _sure_?" he asked. I wasn't going to be able to just not tell him.

"Well, Melissa did drop by today…"

"So it must have been a great day for you, eh Ralphie?"

"Sure. I kind of…invited her to come fishing with us Saturday." I felt I might regret telling Bert that.

"Ah, good job Ralphie! You got a date!" Bert slapped me on the back.

"A date? I don't know what you're talking about, Bert."

"Sure, you do! I know exactly why you asked her to go fishing with us-you want it to be _romantic_. Don't worry Ralph; I'll try to stay out of you two _lovebirds_' hair." Not this.

"Bert, I have no idea where you got the idea that I have a crush on her, but that is not why I asked her to come fishing with us."

"It isn't obvious?" Bert said, surprised. "You always seem to look forward to seeing her."

"So? Maybe we're just developing our friendship. Doesn't have to mean we're in love."

"Maybe so," he retorted, "but it's at least pretty obvious you like her."

"She's my friend, nothing more. Why are you so interested in getting us together? You don't even know her." This was starting to really get on my nerves.

"I dunno, I'm just trying to help, is all."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like you not to."

"C'mon Ralph. You don't have to be so in denial." I was really about to lose my mind. I'd grown sick and tired of Bert doing this; I was getting ready to give him a piece of my mind.

"Bert, please, knock it off. I don't really appreciate this. I am in no hurry to be in a relationship," I grunted, "and besides, if I were taking her on a date, why would I take her fishing? I don't think there's anything romantic about going fishing."

"What would _you_ consider romantic, Ralph?"

I'd never thought of that.

"Um…I don't know. Probably a nice dinner by candlelight or something, I don't know."

"Maybe that could be you and Melissa having a candlelight dinner someday. Don't you think so?"

I was getting ready to just ignore him and go watch television (maybe they had some good sporting event on), but I decided to lay it down first: "Bert, Melissa and I are friends. That is all, nothing more. Do you understand that?"

Bert continued to have a bit of a goofy look on his face. "Well, that's what your mind tells you Ralph. If you don't mind me asking, though, what does your heart tell you?"

I was definitely not prepared for a question like that. What _did _my heart tell me? I didn't know for sure. Was she in my heart? I had to look inside myself to know for sure. But I couldn't know for sure. I was dreadfully confused. Did I like her as a friend? Did I like her as more? I just didn't know what to say.

"I…don't know Bert. I have not thought about that. I'm terribly confused. I don't know what I think right now." I think he'd actually broken my brain.

"Ah, gee, uh, sorry, Ralph. I didn't mean to ask that."

"No, it's alright. I…think I'll just go watch TV."

That night, I had trouble sleeping. Bert's words were still ringing through my head. _What does your heart tell you, Ralph? What does your heart tell you, Ralph? _I could not honestly say. I liked Melissa enough, she was friendly and seemed pretty nice, but did I like her as more? I didn't know her really well, and we hadn't talked all that many times, but did I have some feelings for her I didn't know I had? Did she have those same feelings about me? It might go a long way towards explaining why she seemed so excited to see me. But it all didn't seem to make sense to me. I kept tossing and turning in my bed, as I just felt so confused and bothered. I eventually drifted off to sleep after a rather long time (it had to be several hours) thinking about this.

Saturday soon came and I'd managed to forget about what Bert had said. It was like he'd never spoken those words at all. I woke up that morning and prepared to go head out to meet Melissa at her place. Bert was still asleep, and I hoped I wouldn't wake him up. Fortunately, I managed to get out without tripping over something and waking him up. I jumped on my bicycle and pedaled over to Melissa's place. I'd actually sold my car once I found out I didn't have enough money to keep it, so I bought a bike instead. It was more environmentally-friendly.

I soon found her house-it was within a minute's ride from Willow's store. I got off my bike and knocked on the door.

"Hello?" I asked. "Anybody home?"

No answer at first.

I knocked again.

"Hello, is somebody there?"

The door opened and a middle-aged raccoon with greying fur and an eye patch on his head covering his left eye stepped out. I presumed that this was Melissa's father, Mr. Mulligan.

"Yes," he said, in the gruff voice I'd heard over the phone numerous times before when Bert had prank called his bar, "what business do you have here?"

"I'm here to see Melissa. We were supposed to go fishing today."

"Erm? Oh yeah, that's right. She told me about ya. C'mon in."

Mr. Mulligan guided me into his house. It was a fairly nice house, a little better off than mine. There were hockey and football posters all over the house.

He stood at the stairway and called: "Eh, Melissa, your friend's here!"

I heard her call back, "Just a minute, Dad, I'll be right down!"

So we sat down at the table.

"So, uh, what's your name again, kid?" Mr. Mulligan asked me.

"Uh, Ralph Raccoon, sir."

"Ralph Raccoon? You aren't by any chance Art Raccoon's boy, are ya?" So it was exactly as I thought-my dad _was _a patron at Mike's Beer Emporium.

"Yes, Art Raccoon is my father. I take it he's a frequent customer at your bar?"

"Semi-frequent, yes. Often talks about his boy being in college and that he'd better make something of himself because his future depends on it." I chuckled. That was my dad, alright. He'd always hoped I'd end up becoming rich or famous so he could retire comfortably from his job working in upholstery and spend the remainder of his days with a beer bottle clutched in his paws.

"Sounds like him alright."

Soon Melissa came down. "Hey there, Ralph." She waved to me and sat down next to me. "So, I see you've met my Dad?"

"Yes, Melissa?" I said to her. "We were just talking about our families."

"So, Ralph," Mr. Mulligan said, "you from the Forest originally?"

"Born and raised here, Mr. Mulligan." I didn't know at the time that I was born in Montana.

"Please, Mr. Mulligan was my grandfather. Call me Mike."

"Oh, sorry, Mike." I replied. It seemed he didn't prefer things being so formal.

"So what about you, Mike? Where are you from originally?"

Mike thought to himself for a minute, then answered. "Louisville, Kentucky, United States of America."

"You're from Kentucky? I've never been there," I said. I had no idea her dad was born in the American South.

"Kentucky's an alright place, wouldn't go back there for a million dollars, though."

"Ralph, you'd probably never guess this," Melissa spoke, "but my grandfather was a whiskey bootlegger."

Whiskey bootlegger? That was interesting. "I take it you were born during the American Prohibition, Mike?"

"Yeah," he responded. "Yeah, I was. Alcohol was outlawed back then and my dad would drive these souped up cars to haul illegal moonshine to paying customers. He had to outrun the law many times."

"When where you born?"

"1939." Mike said.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," I asked earnestly, "but didn't the American government repeal Prohibition before that?"

"Yeah, but not every county in every state agreed to those terms." Mike said, matter-of-factly. "Some counties chose to remain dry and keep booze outlawed. Said it would tear apart families and turn men into demons or some bullshit. I happened to be born in one of those counties."

"Ah, I see."

"Now you see why my dad's a bartender?" Melissa asked.

"I think so."

"Yeah. My dad died real young though, suffered a heart attack when I was 7 or 8. Shame. If he'd lived, I imagine he probably would have gone on to race in NASCAR."

I knew very little about NASCAR (other than the fact that it was predominantly a US-only sport, and that it was primarily popular in the American South), but from what I did know, I knew that it had been founded by such bootleggers who decided to compete against each other to see who was the best of the best, and thus, a new sport was born.

"Fascinating," I replied. "So, what made you leave America?"

"Ralph," Melissa replied, "my dad's a…draft-dodger."

"Draft-dodger?" I was surprised.

"Yeah, that's right. I am a draft-dodger. It was the 1960s and 'Nam was going on back then. The government was drafting all of us young ones into the army to go fight and die for our country because it was the 'patriotic' thing to do. They told us the only good commie was a dead one. I remember one song by Country Joe Fish or whatever-the-hell-his-name-was, going 'Whoopee! We're all gonna die!' or something or other. And it was just like that. A lot of the kids I grew up close to? Ended up coming back in wooden boxes. They got shot to death out there by the Viet Cong."

"Gee, Mike, I remember hearing about all that on the news when I was a kid. I knew it was pretty hopeless and grim over there, I didn't know it was that bad."

"Well, it was and then some. I was scared. I didn't want to go over there and die, I'm no hero. So I tried to get out of the draft by saying I was gay."

"I imagine that didn't work, did it?" At that time, the US Army didn't allow anyone who was openly homosexual to participate in combat. I didn't necessarily think that was right of them, but that was a rule they had.

"Nope, it sure as hell didn't. Didn't fool them, they realized I had a little girl and had been married. So I decided to burn my draft card, take the money I had, take my little angel with me, and fly to Canada so they couldn't draft me. I gave up my American citizenship and became a naturalized Canadian. Ended up in Prince Rupert for a while. We decided to move here to Evergreen Forest because the city was too big and crowded for my taste and the patrons I had at my bar were too seedy for my liking. Been nice living here. But," he said, nervously, "Ralph, I must tell you something. I can never go back to America. I dodged the draft, I broke the law. If I ever do return to the US they'll probably arrest me and throw away the keys. I live in fear they might come up here and get me one of these days."

"I don't know if they'd arrest you now," I said, "Vietnam has been over for years, I'm not sure if they'll even prosecute you these days. I believe if I read the news correctly, the American President promised amnesty to all of the draft-dodgers."

"That's correct," Melissa said. "I remember hearing about that."

"Perhaps you're right," Mike said, "but I just can't ever go back. I've been here too long; it's become my home country. You understand, right?"

"Sure." I did understand that, it had to be very hard for him to talk about that, and I didn't mean to stress him out. "Sorry if I bothered you asking that question, Mike."

"Nah, it's alright, kid."

"So, what happened to your mother, Melissa?"

"My mother died when I was just a tiny kit," Melissa said, sounding fairly sad. "I think she died of breast cancer, I'm not sure. The one thing I am sure of is that I don't remember her at all. I don't know what it's like to have a mother, I'm not sure you can understand what that's like. All I have are some black and white photographs of her. I wish I had memories to go along with them." She sighed.

"I'm sorry, Melissa." I did feel kind of bad for her, it had to be pretty hard growing up without a mother or a mother figure. Cedric knew what that was like; his mother had also died when he was a baby.

"No, no, it's okay, Ralph." She said, smiling again. "I figured you'd have to find out sooner or later."

"Funny story about her." Mike started saying, to no one in particular. "Her mother was a lot like her. She used to have a big camera with her and wanted to work for the press. I met her right towards the end of high school. One thing led to another, we ended up dating, we ended up screwing," I grimaced upon hearing that (I didn't particularly want to know _that much_!), "and she ended up getting, ah, knocked up. Kind of got forced into marrying her. It was one of those shotgun wedding type things. You know what I'm talking about?" That was more than I felt I needed to know.

"I, I think so."

"Sadly by the time Melissa was born, she was already starting to suffer from cancer. It was too late for us to try treating it, plus it was _waaaaaaay _outside what we could even begin to dream to afford. She ended up wasting away and dying. I was devastated. I've never been with a woman since."

I actually felt pretty sorry for Mike.

"Never?"

"No, never. I've met many women but there was never one like Allie." I took it that that was her mother's name. "You know what I mean, when you find that one woman you couldn't possibly imagine living the rest of your life without?"

"I can't say that I do." I wasn't honestly sure I'd met that woman.

"Well, trust me, kid. You'll know when you find her. You will definitely know."

"Dad, isn't this a bit much?" Melissa asked. "I don't think Ralph needs to know our complete family history or anything yet, you just met him."

"Oh, you're right, honey. Sorry. Didn't mean to carry on like that."

"No problem, Mike." I said.

"I bet you're wondering why I'm wearing an eye patch." I didn't particularly want to know, I had not asked that because I did not want to get on his bad side.

"I would have asked, but I thought it might offend you."

"Nah, not it all. You see, I was a _real _dumbass kid. A _real _dumbass kid. I was 5 years old and got into my dad's guns. I was playing with one of his guns and I pulled the trigger. It went off and blew my eyeball out. Still got the bullet in my skull. I ended up getting it stitched up. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks," I replied. I did not want to see something like that right now.

"It's not that bad," Mike said. "Here, I'll show you." He took off his eye patch. He wasn't kidding-his left eye was indeed sewn shut.

"Dad!" Melissa shouted. "Please, put your eye patch back on, Ralph doesn't need to see that!"

"Sure he does." Mike said, putting his eye patch back on. "I show that to everyone."

"I wish you wouldn't," Melissa said, shaking her head. "My dad," she said to me, "sometimes I just don't know about him."

"I know exactly what you mean."

"Well, it's been nice talking to ya, Ralph, but I figure I should let you and Mel go off and have your little fishing fun. No need to keep you two listening to boring old me."

"Okay," I said, "but I do have one last question for you, Mike. What is it like being a bartender?"

"It's a good job," Mike answered, smiling a bit. "I get to meet all sorts of fascinating people. And low-lives. But…" he said, now looking a bit upset, "I'm getting sick and tired of these smart-ass kids prank calling me asking for the guys and gals with the funny names and crap. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I get sick of having to ask for the 'I. P. Freeleys', the 'Mike Hunts', the 'Phil Miazes', the 'Ima Weiners', and the 'Jacques Strappes'. I get these all the damn time. Sometimes they call asking if my refrigerator's running. But the worst ones call up and say 'Hi. Is Mike Mulligan there?' And I say, 'Yes sir, that's me. What do you want?' And those snot-nosed little jerks say, 'Mike Mulligan, can I borrow your steam shovel?' Bratty little assholes. I can't stand them. I'm scared to think what the next generation of children will look like. I can't imagine what I'd do if I found out one of them was dating my little darling, I'd KILL THEM, I tell ya, _**I'D KILL THEM!**_"

I knew what he was talking about. When I was a young kit, I remembered reading a kids' book called _Mike Mulligan And His Steam Shovel. _It was about a raccoon by the name of Mike Mulligan who owned a steam shovel (I couldn't remember much else). I felt pretty bad for him, no man deserved to be pestered like that while trying to make a living.

"Wait a minute," he said, suddenly getting angry. "You're not one of _**THEM**_, are you? ARE YOU?" His tone of voice had gotten downright ugly.

"No, no," I said. I thought stuff like that was disgraceful and woefully immature. "I would never do anything like that. That is below me. I don't think it's polite at all to prank call someone."

Mike's tone of voice changed back to his usual gruff tone, "Well, good on you, kid. Nice to see a kid who has some manners to him. I'll tell you what. You're alright Ralph."

I took that to mean he'd taken a liking to me. So I shook paws with him. "Thanks, Mike, I do try."

"Tell you what, kid. You ever got a problem, come to old Mike. I can try to help ya out."

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Mike, but thanks anyway."

"You're welcome, kid."

"So, are we ready to go Ralph?" Melissa asked me.

"Sure, Melissa." I was really looking forward to this. "I'll go get Bert up, come meet us by the dock at Evergreen Lake. See you in a bit."

"Okay, see ya there Ralph."

I rode back to my house to find that Bert had already woken up and was watching Saturday morning cartoons on television.

"Haha!" he said, laughing at one of the characters on the TV. "That Nestor. Couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag!"

"Bert, I'm ready." I said, as he hadn't noticed me yet. "Do you have our fishing poles?"

"Sure do, Ralphie. Is your girl ready?"

I sighed, but I'd already started getting used to Bert saying things like that. "Sure. I told her to meet us at the dock, by our boat."

"Goodie! Can't wait to meet her." Bert said.

"Oh boy." I had a feeling this might end badly.

"Well, alright then." Bert said, as he shut the television off. "Let's go have some fun!"

We took our poles and headed towards Evergreen Lake. It was a beautiful spot, and we would have a lot of good memories of this place. Though personally, my favorite fishing spot of all time was our old fishing hole. It's a shame that Milton Midas crook completely destroyed the entire fishing hole by dumping his toxic sludge into there. I was happy to see him get locked up in the local jail; he got exactly what he deserved. I only wish they'd have given him longer than they did. How could somebody do such a horrible thing? I don't think I'll ever quite understand.

We had a boat set up at our dock. Bert and I had built it together-well, actually, I did most of the work building it. Bert's role was primarily christening it the "S. S. Raccoon" with a bottle of cheap whiskey (we couldn't afford champagne). Usually, Cedric, Bert, and I would go out to the middle of the pond to go fishing, but today, Cedric couldn't join us, as he had business to attend to with his pop. (Probably helping Cyril count the money he'd lost due to his…disastrous, to say the least, excursion at Indianapolis.)

Sure enough, Melissa was waiting there for us. She was wearing a fishing hat. "Hi, Ralph!" She waved to us. "So this is your friend?"

"Yes, Melissa, this is Bert Raccoon. Bert, Melissa Mulligan."

They shook paws. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Bert," she said. "Ralph told me about you."

"Ah, Ralphie boy here told me a lot about you. Much of it was very flattering, I might add…"

"Really?" She smiled.

"You have no idea."

I hoped Bert wasn't suggesting what I thought he was.

"That's sweet of him," she said, sounding pretty happy. "I heard from Ralph that you were a bit of a troublemaker. Is that true, Bert?"

"Who, me? I don't look like a troublemaker, do I?"

"It's hard to say."

"Well, rest assured, I most certainly am not."

"I'll take your word for it. Ralph, what is Bert majoring in?"

"Ah, music. He wants to be the next Ritchie Quackmore and be like Deep Blue and tour the world by storm with his amazing guitar prowess." Those were exactly the words he'd told me not too long ago.

"You'd better believe it, baby!" Bert then proceeded to imitate the finger-flashing guitar style of his heroes. Melissa and I both laughed.

"Not really my style of music," she admitted, "but I'll have to see you perform to believe it. You'll have to show me sometime."

"I can do that no problem," Bert said enthusiastically. "Ralphie here can be my drummer. Isn't that right, Ralphie?"

"Uh huh." I said, though admittedly, I didn't really enjoy playing drums. "I can drum pretty well, I think."

"I'll have to see you two play myself."

"Certainly, Melissa," I said. We chatted for a little bit and then we got ready.

"Got all the fishing poles, Bert?" I asked.

"Check."

"Tackle box?"

"Check."

"Okay, then. Let's cast off!"

We set off from our dock and rowed to the middle of the pond. We set up our rods. I had built my own rod myself, Bert had sent away for a fancy rod (his family had more money than my family did), and Melissa was using an old fishing pole.

Bert had his set of fancy bobbers and fishing lures he would put on his hook to catch fish with. I never went fancy like that though-for me, the only proper way to fish was with the good old fashioned humble earthworm. I'd actually gone and dug some up yesterday and put them in a can to preserve them for today.

"Ralphie," Bert said, "you can use one of my bobbers. Works wonders, ya know!"

"No thanks, Bert. You can have your fancy fishing lures-I'll stick with my good old earthworms." I put the worm on the hook and cast my line.

Bert muttered to himself. "How old-fashioned."

I looked to Melissa. "Say, Melissa. Do you want to use some of my earthworms?"

"Sure, Ralph. I don't mind."

"Okay," I said, pulling one of the worms out of the dirt in the can and handing it to her.

"Uh, Ralph," she said, nervously. "I'd rather not touch that."

"Oh," I said. "Well, may I put it on your hook for you?"

"That would be very nice." So I stuck the worm on there, and she cast her line.

We were all sitting back, with our lines in the water. Bert was holding his rod with his foot, being a bit of a show off.

"I bet I can catch more than you, Ralphie!"

"I doubt it Bert. Any luck yet, Melissa?"

"Not yet, but we'll see soon enough."

Soon enough I found myself getting a bite. "Ah, a bite! I have a bite!"

"Reel it in, Ralphie!"

I managed to reel the fish in. It was a catfish.

"Uh oh, a catfish!" Bert said.

"Oh dear. Those things can jab you with the barbs in their whiskers." I'd known, I'd gotten jabbed by a few before and it really, really stung.

"If you don't mind me asking, you two don't keep any of the fish you catch, do you?" Melissa asked us.

I answered, "Nah. We throw them back after we catch them! It wouldn't be right to keep them-if we did, there'd eventually be no more to catch!"

"That's good. Those fish shouldn't go to waste," she said.

"Hold on, Ralphie, I'll get it off the line for ya!"

"Uh, Bert, I don't think I need your help, I can do it my-" but Bert interrupted me.

"No, Ralph, I insist!" He grabbed it rather carelessly and got it off the hook…only for it to jab him with one of its barbs.

"!" he shouted, as he flung the fish back into the water. Rather far, too. Melissa and I both had a good laugh.

"I don't see what's funny, guys," he said, looking a bit upset.

"Oh, nothing." I said.

"Maybe you should be more careful next time." Melissa said, winking at him.

"Eh, I suppose."

I soon caught a few more fish and tossed them back. Bert and Melissa hadn't had any luck yet catching anything, but soon enough, Bert got a bite.

"Hey, guys!" he shouted, ecstatically, "I got one! I got one!"

"Come on Bert, reel it in! You can do it!" we both cheered.

Bert tried his hardest to reel it in…unfortunately, the fish was too crafty. It managed to break his line.

"Oh dear…The fish ate my line."

"That's no problem, you have more, don't you?" Melissa pondered.

"No, I'm afraid not. I'll have to go home and put some new line on this. I guess that's all the fishing I'll be doing today." He sighed.

"It's alright Bert, maybe you'll have better luck next time." Melissa said.

"I sure hope so."

Hours passed and Melissa and I had caught a few more fish, but nothing really spectacular.

It was now close to dusk. I'd decided to call it a day, but Melissa still had her rod and reel in her hand, still trying to catch the big one.

"Sure you don't want to throw in the towel yet?" I asked her.

"Give me ten more minutes, Ralph, I think I might get a good one yet!"

"Okay then. Bert, start rowing back towards the dock. It's almost nighttime and I don't think we need to be out all day and all of the night. We need to get back before Melissa's dad ends up chewing me out."

"Oh, you wouldn't want _that _now, would you? Worried you might not get to see her again?"

"I suppose so."

Suddenly, Melissa jumped up. "Oh, I've got a bite here! Wow! It's a big one too!"

Bert put the oars back down.

"Can you reel it in?" Bert asked.

"May I help you, Melissa?" I asked, thinking she might need some help.

"Thanks, but I think I have it!" she shouted, as she struggled to reel it in.

After a few minutes of fighting with the rather large fish, she finally managed to haul it in.

"Wow!" I said. "A-a-a largemouth bass?" I was very impressed.

"I didn't even know those were in this lake, we never caught one before!" Bert said excitedly. "And you caught one! And it's big too!"

"Wow. I really did it!" Melissa said, also very excitedly. "I caught a largemouth bass!"

"Good job, Melissa!" I said, congratulating her.

"Thanks, Ralph. I brought my camera just in case something like this happened. Here, Bert, take my camera and let's get a picture of this beauty." She handed her camera to Bert.

"Okay, I'm zooming in." Bert said as Melissa held up the fish she'd caught.

"Come here, Ralph, I want you in this picture with me!" she said to me.

"Me? Well, okay." I said shyly as I stood next to her.

Melissa put her other arm around me and smiled. I smiled too, rather sheepishly.

"Okay," Bert said. "Say, peanut butter soda!"

"Peanut butter soda!" the both of us said. The camera flashed.

Bert took a look at the photo on the camera. "That is a good photo of you two," he said.

Melissa took a look at it. "I think so, too. I should get this developed. I'll give you a copy once I do, okay, Ralph?"

"Sure thing." I said. Today had been a great day. And Bert hadn't horribly embarrassed me, as I'd feared.

We tossed the bass back and we rowed back to the dock where we tied the boat up. Bert went back home, while I escorted Melissa back to her house (I figured I'd at least be a gentleman).

"That was some day, wasn't it Ralph?"

"Sure was. Haven't this good a day in a while."

"If you don't mind, Ralph, I'd like to do this again sometime."

"Really?"

"Sure, it was a lot of fun," she said, grabbing my paw. I blushed a bit.

"Uh…what are you doing?" I said, nervously.

"You're walking me home, remember?" She said smiling.

"Yeah, that's right." I said, still a little nervous.

We walked on for a little ways. "I hope your dad isn't going to be too mad we were out until it was almost totally dark."

"Nah," Melissa said, reassuringly, "he won't be. He's at work by now, remember?"

"Oh, wait, that's right." I had totally forgotten what she had said a few days ago. My brain was all mixed up now.

I walked her back home.

"See you soon, Melissa, hope we can do this again sometime."

"Wait a minute, Ralph!" She shouted. "You don't want to stay for dinner?"

"Uh, dinner?" I said, really surprised. She wanted me to stay for dinner at her place? No, I had to be imagining this. Was I? I pinched myself. Nope. I wasn't dreaming.

"Yes, dinner, silly." She said, laughing a bit.

"Erm, uh, are you sure?"

"Of course I am. I figured it'd be something nice. I thought about this while we were fishing, Ralph."

Suddenly those words Bert had asked me a few days ago were ringing in my head again.

"_What does your heart tell you, Ralph?" _I gulped. Not this again.

I must have been just standing there for a minute or two, because Melissa called from the kitchen, "Ralph, are you coming in or am I going to have to bring the food out here to you?"

I snapped out of it.

"Heh heh, sorry, I must have been lost in thought." I said as I walked in.

Melissa was cooking using her father's stove.

"You cook? You didn't tell me," I said.

"Of course I do! I learned to cook all by myself," she said, proudly.

"What's for dinner?"

"Tonight, I'm making flap-jacks and eggs."

"Flap-jacks? For dinner?" I was confused; I thought that was always a breakfast food. But at least it would be better than something with peanut butter involved in it, which is what I usually had to look forward to.

"I say, why not? There's no rule saying you can't have them for dinner." While it was…unusual, to say the least, she was right. I supposed you could have them for dinner.

"You're right," I said.

Soon, our meal was ready.

While we were eating, we made some small talk.

"What do you think about Bert?" I asked.

"Bert? He seems like a nice guy. A bit different though."

"Yeah, I know. I've known him since I was a kid, though, I know him pretty well. At least, I think I do."

"Never met someone interested in music like him before."

"He's been interested since he was a kid. He loves the guitar masters and wants to be just like them."

"Do you think he'll make it, Ralph?" Melissa asked.

"You want me to be honest?"

"If you don't mind."

"Honestly….no. No, I don't. I just can't see him being the big rock star he thinks he's going to be. I just don't see it, I really don't."

"Well, I wish him the best of luck," Melissa replied.

"I do too." I said. "He's had my back so many times, I've lost count. I feel I'm sort of indebted to him, in a way."

"I never had a friend that close. But I think I have one now-you."

"Really, now?" I answered, a bit surprised.

"Yes, I do." She said, smiling broadly. I found myself staring into her eyes for a moment.

"You don't say," I said, nervously. I seemed to be pretty nervous right now. I could tell she was sensing that.

"Ralph, you don't have to be nervous. Nothing bad's going to happen," she said, in a reassuring tone.

"Sorry, Melissa. I apologize if I seem a little awkward."

"It's okay. I don't mind, really, I don't."

We chatted a little bit more and soon we had finished our dinner.

"I had a lovely time today, Ralph. We ought to have more days like this."

"I think so, too." I replied. "But I think I need to get going soon, or else Bert will be wondering where in the world I've gone off to."

Speak of the devil, the phone rang. "Hold on, I'll get it," I said.

It was Bert on the other end, but it was obvious he was trying to make this a prank call at first. "Hello, is Mr. Freeley there? His first initials are I. P."

"Bert, no need to try to be funny now. I'm right here."

"Ralphie? What are you doing at her place still? You should have been back over an hour ago."

"I'll explain later," I said, "wait a minute. How do you know this number?" I didn't know he knew her phone number.

"We do have a phone book, you know…"

"Never mind. I'll see you in a bit."

"I can't wait to hear your explanation," Bert said as he hung up the phone.

"That was Bert, wasn't it?" Melissa asked.

"Yeah, yeah, it was. He wants to know where I've been alright. I have to get going. See you later, Melissa."

I went to shake her paw goodbye, but much to my surprise, she instead wrapped her arms around me and hugged me. "Huh, what?" I said, totally surprised.

"See ya later Ralph." She said, as she let go of me.

"Uh, bye." I said.

A thousand thoughts were going through my mind as I walked back home.

As I opened the door, Bert greeted me.

"It's about time you showed up," he said.

"Sorry, Bert. Melissa…eh…sort of invited me over for dinner."

"Oh, so she made you dinner, eh?"

"Yes, she did."

Bert suddenly got excited. "Did it involve _peanut butter?_"

"No, Bert, it did not involve peanut butter. It was a just a few pancakes and some eggs. Not much more."

"Was it," he said grinning, "_romantic?_"

"I don't really know, Bert." I honestly didn't know.

"Tell me the whole story," he said.

I told him the whole story, alright.

"Well, Ralph, I can say this for sure."

"What's that, Bert?"

"She definitely likes you. A lot, it'd seem!"

"Are you sure?" I couldn't honestly tell. I was really confused.

"Yes, I am. Think about it Ralphie. She grabbed you by the hand. She made dinner for you. She gave you a hug when you left. Doesn't it all add up?"

It would make sense, but I couldn't honestly tell whether she really liked me or was just being really friendly. "I'm not sure, Bert."

"How can you not be sure? It's that obvious."

"I don't know, Bert, maybe she was just being nice."

"Sounds a little more than nice to me, but suit yourself." Bert said as he was watching his late night sitcoms.

"I have one more question for you, Ralph." He said, grinning again.

"What could that be?" I was worried what he might ask.

"When are you going to stop being in denial?"

"In denial about what?"

"You _love_ her. Don't you Ralph?"

"I do?" I said. I wasn't even sure what to say, I was so terribly confused again. I didn't know what was going on at all.

"Of course you do. You make it too obvious, and I think she can see that too, but I'm not sure." Bert said.

"We're nothing more than friends."

"If you think you're nothing more than friends that's all the two of you will ever be. You have to make a move Ralphie! Strike while the iron is hot!" Now he sounded _exactly _like my father.

"I have absolutely no clue what you're talking about, Bert. You're not making any sense."

"You really _are _clueless sometimes, Ralph."

"I don't think so. I'll be up in my bedroom listening to some of my old vinyls."

"Fine with me. I'll be down here, I can't miss my show!" Bert was laughing at something funny on the TV that I didn't notice.

I sat on my bed and listened to a few of my old records by some of my favorite groups. These included _The No Album_ by No, and _A Night At The Races, _by King. But I could barely focus on the music I was listening to, all the things that had happened today were going through my mind, still. So after _A Night At The Races, _I just decided to go to bed.

But once again, I found myself having trouble going to sleep. Those words of the past few days were all troubling me:

"_What does your heart tell you, Ralph?"_

"_You know what I mean, when you find that one woman you couldn't possibly imagine living the rest of your life without? Well,_ _you'll know when you find her. You will definitely know."_

"_Come here, Ralph, I want you in this picture with me!"_

"_I thought about this while we were fishing, Ralph."_

"_I never had a friend that close. But I think I have one now-you."_

"_Think about it Ralphie. She grabbed you by the hand. She made dinner for you. She gave you a hug when you left. Doesn't it all add up?"_

"_You love her. Don't you Ralph?"_

Aaaaaaaargh. This was all too much for me to bear. This would end up driving me mad sooner or later.

I ended up just sleeping on it.

**END CHAPTER FIVE**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This is, officially, the longest chapter I have ever written of anything, ever. Yet, I think this is definitely my best chapter so far. I was actually going to make this longer, but I decided to save the second part of this chapter and make it the next chapter.

The song Melissa's father mentions is the infamous "I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixing-To-Die Rag" by Country Joe McDonald and the Fish. An _extremely _anti-war song. Most famous for being performed with at Woodstock, complete with the infamous "Gimme an F! Gimme a U..." (Well, you get the idea) chant. Many people at Woodstock said it was the highlight of the whole festival.

Anyways, it looks like Ralph is starting to go through, as the great band Queen once said, that "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." (And so is Melissa, it would seem). But what is Ralph going to do about it? Will Ralph ever stop being in denial? Will he ever realize his true feelings? (Of **course** he will-SPOILER ALERT, not really) How does he realize his true feelings? But first, what will become of a trip to the city to visit his brother, George, and his family?

Anyways, read and review, as always!


	6. Chapter 6: The Message From The Country

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Another chapter that is probably disposable (much like chapter 4,) but I felt like writing this anyways. Felt we ought to see more of Ralph's family in this story.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap:**_ _I don't own the Raccoons or any of the rights to anything mentioned in this story except my own characters…Blah blah. Instead, I will share an amusing (though your mileage may vary) quote from one of George Carlin's books:_

"_When he got loaded, the human cannonball knew there were not very many men of his caliber."_

_That was totally lame, I admit, but it was much better than repeating the same garbage from chapter 1 over and over again, wasn't it?_

**Chapter 6: The Message From The Country**

Some time had passed. I thought if I'd slept on it, those words from the past few days would no longer bother me.

But they hadn't. All those thoughts were _still _bugging me and gnawing away at me. Melissa had acted very oddly around me. I had no clue whether she actually liked me or if she was being overly friendly. I still had no idea what I thought about her.

_What does your heart tell you Ralph?_

I still could not satisfactorily answer those words.

One weekend, Bert and I were sitting on our couch, watching television. It happened to a favorite game show of Bert's, _The Price Is Wrong._

"Alright, Jerry, show us what our contestant could win today!" said Bob Barkley, the canine host of the show.

"It's….a new car!" Sure enough, out rolled a brand new car, a 1982 Ford T-bird.

"And, show him what else he can win…." I was barely paying attention to the show at all. Bert was, as he thoroughly enjoyed watching game shows such as this.

The words were going through my head again.

"_I never had a friend that close. But I think I have one now-you._"

Ugh. I couldn't even focus properly-I was just lost in thought, the words repeating themselves over and over again.

"No!" Bert shouted. "That's not a good guess. Bid higher! Bid higher! Don't you think that's a bad bid, Ralph?"

"Huh?" I said, not really listening.

"Ralph, you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Are you alright? You've been acting really weird lately, Ralphie. Something the matter?"

He'd noticed.

"Oh, nothing Bert. I've just been thinking a lot, is all."

"Thinking about what?"

"About…stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Nothing important." I didn't want to talk to him right now.

"C'mon, Ralph, you don't need to be so secretive."

I sighed. "Okay then, Bert."

He looked at me, with a bit of a concerned look on his face.

"Now come on. What's the matter, Ralphie?"

"I don't really know."

"Does this have anything to do with Melissa, by any chance?"

I sighed again. "Yes, it does."

I thought Bert might hassle me about her like he had been doing, but for once, he didn't.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Bert, I've been thinking about all this stuff that's been going on the past days. I don't know what to do. I can't tell if she likes me or not, and I can't tell if I do or not. I'm not sure of anything."

Bert stared me straight in the eye.

"Love is such a confusing thing, isn't it?"

"Most definitely. I don't understand it at all." I really didn't.

"I wish I could help ya out there, pal," Bert said, "but I'm no expert on the subject either."

"Figured as much," I said jokingly, "you've never been able to keep a girlfriend for more than a few weeks."

"Well, I suppose that's because I'm not in any hurry to settle down yet."

"Oh, so you're in it for the-?" Bert interrupted me.

"_Maaaaaybe._" That had been exactly what I thought.

"I see."

"Seriously, though, to be honest, I don't think any of them were right for me. I'm not even sure I've ever actually been in love before."

"Never?" I was a little surprised.

"Not that I can think of," Bert said. "Maybe someday, but no worry. I'm not in any hurry." He'd end up finding the right one someday, alright-a lot closer than he'd think! But you already know that story.

"I just don't know, Bert. I just don't know."

"I know someone who might be able to help you out with that."

"Who would that be?" I didn't know anybody right off-hand who could help me-my father would probably laugh at me, I couldn't ask Mike Mulligan because he was Melissa's father, and I couldn't ask Melissa herself because, well…

"Your brother."

"George?" I asked.

"Yeah. He's married with kids, isn't he?"

"Yes, Bert, but how will be able to help?"

"Aren't you planning on trying to visit him real soon?"

I was. I'd been saving up money for a while to visit George and his family, and I finally had enough to pay for a train to where he lived, the capital city of Ottawa. (He had moved around many, many times already, partially due to the fact he was never able to hold down a job at a restaurant for long.)

"Yes, but so?"

"Ralph, you could discuss this with George. He's married for one; he would know more about this than I would."

Bert had a point for once.

But, I still had no clue what I even felt about Melissa. I was fairly certain (after all that thinking) that she probably had a little something for me, but I certainly didn't know if I had that something for her, too.

"Bert, I don't even know if I like her."

"Stop being in denial, Ralph, you know you like her."

"I'm not in denial."

Bert snorted. "Yes, you are."

I was pretty sure I wasn't. Was I? Maybe I wasn't so sure.

I decided to save this conversation for when I got to Ottawa.

* * *

><p>A week passed, and Bert, Melissa, and I had gone fishing again the next weekend. (Once again, Cedric didn't come-his father must have REALLY lost a bunch of money at Indy.) None of us caught anything outstanding, but it was still a good time. The only other real difference was that she didn't ask me to have dinner with her this time. So I ended up eating Bert's "peanut butter pizza" that he had proudly invented. I had had better.<p>

The next day, I had to get up early to catch the train. This train would take me to Ottawa; it would be a long ride. I had taken a couple weeks off from work (Mr. Lassater was a nice guy, so he didn't really have a problem with it) for this trip. It was about 8:30 AM when the train arrived. I paid the fare and got on board the train. This would be a long trip.

I had brought a few books and newspapers along with me so the ride wouldn't be so dull and boring. I was reading through the _World Times _magazine, reading an article that Clay Rutherford had written about his trip to Africa, complete with accompanying photographs. It was a fascinating article, but to be honest, I had no desire to visit Africa. It wasn't long, though, before I ended up putting my magazine down and ended up failing asleep.

The train made a few stops along the way-it was a three day trip.

On the third day, I woke up from another nap (I napped a **LOT **over those three days) as the train was almost to Ottawa-only an hour or so away. I couldn't remember what I'd dreamt about at all, but I had a feeling it had something to do with Melissa. Why could I never remember my good dreams? I always seemed to only remember my bad dreams or my more bizarre ones.

A little over an hour later, the train pulled into the station and it was time for us to depart the train. I had written a letter to George telling him that I'd be coming ahead of time, and I anticipated him waiting for me at the station. When I got off the train, I couldn't find him at first. There were a lot of people crowded about the station platform and I was finding myself quickly getting lost.

"Dammit," I said to myself. "I've been in the city for just a few minutes and I'm already lost-on the platform, no less."

How sad was that?

Then I saw him in the crowd. He called out to me.

"Well, well, if it isn't my little brother, Ralph!" George waved at me.

"Long time, no see, big brother!" I shouted.

George tackled me playfully.

"I've been waiting a while to do that," he said, laughing.

"So, how's life in Ottawa been?" I asked him.

"It's been pretty good, Ralph. But I think we can talk more on the way back to my apartment. C'mon."

George led me to his car. It was-get this-a 1975 AMC Gremlin.

"George, you still have this hunk of junk?" I said laughing. He'd driven this car to my high school graduation.

"Hey, don't knock the Gremlin. I think this is a great car, I'll never understand why it's always getting trashed by automotive experts."

"Whatever you say, George." I said, rolling my eyes. We both got into the car. "But if I may be honest, this is one ugly ride. No offense."

"She may be ugly, yes, but she gets the job done. Can you argue against that?"

"Hmm, no, I guess I can't. But perhaps you should think about getting a new car sometime in the near future."

"Oh, I will, someday, but only when this baby gives out." George loved this car, so it would be very hard to convince him to give it up.

"What do _you _drive, Ralph?"

"An Oldsmobile-or at least I did. It was too expensive for me to keep, so I sold it. I now have a bicycle."

George laughed. "Hah! A bicycle. Not very stylish, are we?"

"No," I admitted, "but it's at least environmentally friendly."

"If that's your thing, good for you," George replied.

Soon, we got back to George's apartment.

"So this is where you live, George?"

"Yes, for now at least. I keep bouncing around from job to job and we have to move. I'm not a terrible chef, I swear I'm not. I just have trouble getting along with my bosses and I end up getting fired for it. I moved here about half a year ago. We were living all the way out in Halifax."

"I remember that, you wrote saying you'd lost your job there and had to move again. It has to be rough on your wife and the kids, not being able to stay in one place for very long."

"I know, I really want to be able to settle down somewhere and not have to move. Hey! Maybe this time it'll work out." George sounded hopeful.

"Have you considered being your own boss?" I just brought that up out of the blue.

"Hmm. Not a bad idea. I'll have to consider that someday," he said, unaware that that would indeed come true someday.

I took a look at the wall. There was some graffiti next to the door. "George, who exactly is Kilroy?" The graffiti had a raccoon with a bent nose (much like Bert and my brother) peering over a wall. Below that, it said "KILROY WAS HERE".

"Oh, that?" George said. "I don't know who Kilroy is, but whoever he is, he must be a pretty smart young man. He's been striking all over the city. Actually, I heard he's been striking for decades. Since the second World War, in fact. I have no clue who he is or who he could possibly be, but he sure does manage to show up everywhere. I woke up one morning and this was right next to my door. He must have struck while I was asleep."

I'd heard of this Kilroy graffiti before, but I had no idea that that was still somewhat popular. "I'll say. What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing, I suppose. It's rather unique, actually-I sort of like it."

"Suit yourself."

"Why don't we come in, my wife and kids have been expecting you."

"Alright then." George knocked on the door. Nicole opened it and answered with her trademark French accent.

"Ah, bonjour, monsieur Ralph!" She shook my paw.

"Bonjour to you too, Madame," I said.

"Eet haz been a long treep, haz eet not?" She asked.

"Oh yes. That was a long train ride. Though I slept most of the way."

"I underztand. Train ridez can be zho boring."

"You're telling me," I said.

Lisa then came running up.

"Uncle Ralph!" She said, grabbing me and hugging me, "It's been so long since I've seen you!" She was about 8 years old then.

"Little Lisa," I said, hugging her back, "you're right, it has been too long. Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny little thing. You're really growing up!"

"You noticed, Uncle Ralph?"

"Sure did. Say, the last time I saw you, you had gotten a basketball. You said you'd be practicing with it. How's it been going?"

"It's been going great!" She smiled. "I practice every chance I get. Someday, I'd like to play for my school's basketball team! If I can stay in one city long enough."

"Let's hope that happens," I said, smiling.

A little tiny kit came wandering up towards me. "U-uncle Walphie?"

"Ah, you must be Bentley!" I said, as he jumped towards me into my arms.

"Uncle Walphie," he said. "Daddy told me about you!"

"Bentley, the last time I saw you, you were just a baby." He was just shy of three years old now.

"I've been gwowing up into a big boy," Bentley said. "Daddy says it won't be much longer until I go to school."

Bentley reminded me of myself when I was three years old.

"Are you excited for school, Bentley?"

"Uh-uh. I'm scawed," he said. "What if the other kids don't like me?"

"Bentley," I said, "I was just like you when I was your age."

"You were my age?" Bentley said, honestly surprised.

"I sure was. Your dad was too, believe it or not."

"Really?"

"I definitely was," George said. "Wow, that was….a long time ago. I can't believe it's been that long."

"Is school scawy, Uncle Walphie?"

"Oh yes, it can be," I said, speaking from personal experience. "But it's not as scary as you think it is. It might be scary at first, but it will get better. That's until you get to high school-but you'll find out about it someday."

"High school?" Bentley was a little confused.

"Son, you'll find out about that someday. But that will be many years away. You will have plenty of time before then," George said.

"Okay, Daddy." Bentley said.

"Come on Ralph," George said. "Let's sit down and watch some TV. We have some catching up to do."

"We sure do," I replied emphatically.

"So let's crack open some nice cold brews and catch up," he said, laughing.

"Sure thing." I rarely ever drank (as I never had much of a big taste for alcohol, unlike my father), but this felt like a semi-appropriate time to do so, so I did.

We chatted for a while. Eventually, George started telling a joke.

"So there's this joke going around my workplace," he said, "care to hear it?"

"I suppose so," I answered, "let's see how bad this one is."

"Okay, so this British monastery has fallen upon hard times, and they're short on money."

"Okay, I got you so far."

"So the monks decide to open up their very own fish-and-chips restaurant."

"Why would they open up a restaurant? Wouldn't that cost more money that they didn't have?" This didn't seem to make sense so far.

"I can't tell you that," George said, grinning, "but anyways, they have their restaurant ready for the grand opening. In comes this visitor."

"Yeah," I said, "and what does he see?"

"He sees two of the monks working in the kitchen. One of them is frying the fish, and the other is slicing and dicing the potatoes."

"And then what?"

"Well, he asks the monks, 'Pardon me for being rude, but what are you doing?' The monk frying the fish says, 'Oh. I am the friar, and he is the chip monk!' Hah-hah! Get it?"

I didn't think this joke was particularly funny (I thought it was in a bit of poor taste), but I chuckled anyway to be polite. "Heh heh. Funny joke there. Little bit of chef humor, correct?"

"Of course," George said. "Say, I'd chat more but it's almost dinner time. What would you like, Ralphie?"

"It doesn't matter to me, anything sounds good right now. I haven't anything since a bit of cereal this morning."

"How's about some burgers? They're an old specialty of mine. I used to work in a fast food restaurant, heh heh." I remembered, he'd worked at one when I was a kid.

"Sounds great to me!"

George fixed up some dinner and I ate with his family.

* * *

><p>Soon, it was time to head to bed.<p>

"I have to go to work early in the morning tomorrow, Ralph. I took today off; the boss said if I take two days off in a row, he'll hang me up on the wall by the tail." His boss did _not _sound like a nice guy, at all.

"Where am I going to sleep, George?"

"On the couch?" He wasn't sure.

"No, that's too uncomfortable."

"Erm….let me think. Oh, I know! You can share Bentley's room. I have a big bed there for when he gets bigger. Bentley sleeps in a small bed, you can have the big bed."

That was a little odd, but I decided not to question him; I'd take any place to sleep that I could. "Alright, George. See you tomorrow." I was getting ready for bed.

"No problem, little brother." George waved as he went to his bedroom.

I climbed into the big bed in Bentley's room. Bentley was already tucked into his little bed in the corner. He was asleep, but woke up when he came in.

"Daddy…?" he said, curious.

"No, Bentley, it's your Uncle Ralphie."

"Uncle Walphie? What are you doing in my bedwoom?"

"Well, your dad's said that I ought to sleep in here."

"In my woom? With me?"

"Yes, Bentley."

"Gee….I don't know…." the kid said, a little nervous.

"Don't worry, nothing bad will happen Bentley. It's only for a couple of days, until I go back home a couple of days from now."

"Awe you suwe?" Bentley asked.

"It'll be fine, Bentley."

"Okay, Uncle Walphie." He laid back down and went to sleep.

I also laid down, but had a bit of trouble going to sleep. Once again, all those thoughts had started going through my head.

_What does your heart tell you, Ralph?_

You know, the same thoughts as before. Once again I found myself thinking of Melissa.

Then I remembered Bert's other words:

"_You could discuss this with George. He's married for one; he would know more about this than I would._"

I thought to myself, _Bert is right. Maybe I should speak to George about this tomorrow-after he gets off work, of course._

I eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next day, I helped Nicole babysit the children. Lisa was busy reading a book (that she'd been assigned to read for the summer, as both of the children were out of school). I was helping Bentley play with his toy blocks.

"What are you trying to build, Bentley?"

"A castle. When I gwow up, I want to be a knight." He didn't have a computer yet (there weren't any available for the home market yet, at least, I don't think there were). So this was his childhood dream.

"A knight? That will take a lot of work, Bentley. Do you think you can do it?"

"Suwe! My daddy says I can be anything when I gwow up, if I wowk hawd enough!"

"Well, Bentley, I'm sure you'll be the best knight there ever was." I knew that he wasn't going to be a knight when he grew up, but I felt like reassuring him; unlike some cold-hearted people out there, I didn't want to crush the kid's dreams.

"I will twy, Walphie!"

It wasn't much longer before George came home from work.

Nicole greeted him.

"Bonjour, mon mari," she said, kissing him as she greeted him. "Zho how waz your day?"

"It was a crazy one, dear," George said, laughing. "You won't believe it, but Freddie blew up a chicken in the stove. There were pieces everywhere and we had to scrape them off the floor, walls, and the inside of the stove."

"Zhounds like quite a day, mon cheri. Didn't you zhay zhat Freddie iz working on borrowed time?"

"Oh yes, honey. Freddie's an alright guy, but he is a _terrible _chef. He's always trying shortcuts. I wouldn't be surprised to see him get fired in the near future."

Freddie was a co-worker of George's at the restaurant he worked at at this time-and he was, well, incompetent, to say the least.

"Sounds like a lot of fun, George." I said.

"Sure, if you like cleaning up after someone else's mess!" He said, chuckling to himself.

George sat down next to me on the couch as we watched a major league baseball game. The Mammoth Mudhens were playing against the New York Yankees. The Yankees were number 2 in the American League ranks, behind the Mudhens. It was the bottom of the seventh inning, and the Mudhens were down 4-3.

"C'mon Mudhens!" George cheered, pulling for his favorite team. "Beat those Yankees! I'm tired of them always winning the World Series, it should be our turn for once! Let's get 'em and get one step closer to that championship!"

I wasn't as enthusiastic. I'd remembered Bert's words.

I figured I might as well discuss this with George.

"George, I've been meaning to discuss something with you."

"Ah, what is it little brother? Come on, we can discuss anything. Is something troubling you?"

"Yes. There is this girl I know…"

"A girl?" George slapped me on the back. Sometimes, he could be just like Bert (I sometimes wondered if Bert and I had been switched at birth). "Atta boy, Ralph. I heard all about those problems you had with them in high school, it's about time something finally went your way in the dating department."

"Yeah, but, we're not dating. I think she likes me. But…I don't know what I feel about her."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hear this whole story."

"Okay." I told George everything.

"Well, for one, Melissa definitely likes you, Ralph. There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it-she likes you. Trust me, brother; Nicole was the same way when I met her."

"Yes, but, as I said, George, I don't know what I feel about her."

"Going by what you've told me, you probably like her back but you're scared to admit it. You're worried you'll drive her off."

"I do like her?" I couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth or not.

"You'll have to look inside yourself to know that for sure, but you probably do. I can't speak for sure, I am not you, but I have a good feeling you do."

"Oh."

"You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. Nicole acted sort of like that when I met her when I was working in Quebec-Lisa, stop bouncing that basketball inside the house! Your mother doesn't like it, and neither do I!"

Lisa was indeed bouncing a basketball around in the house.

"Sorry, Dad. I didn't know it bothered you." She put down the basketball and went back to reading her book.

"So what did you do, George? You never told me the full story."

"I was just like you, doubting myself, thinking it was just my imagination, in denial-but then I realized it and asked her out in a heartbeat. Sure enough, she said yes."

"Ah. Then what happened? You got married and lived happily ever after?"

"Sort of. You see, our relationship got pretty…heated. I ended up not using protection and got her knocked up after we'd been dating for a while." I cringed again. That was the second person who had told me something like this in the past month. Did _nobody _use condoms?

"George, I….did not really want to know that."

"Oh, sorry. Sorry."

"No, it's alright, do go on."

"Well, anyways, that's how Lisa was conceived. We had to get married to avoid having an illegitimate child. Bentley was sort of an accident too, I hadn't planned on having another kid, but sure enough, along he came."

"So that's your story…" I felt I knew a lot more about my brother now, although I was still a little…disturbed that nobody seemed to know what protection was.

* * *

><p>Soon, it was time for me to head back home.<p>

It was late at night and George was getting ready to take me back to the train station to head back home to the Evergreen Forest.

"Zhee you zhome other time, Ralph," Nicole said. "Eet'z been great having you here for a few days."

"I agree, it was a nice few days," I said.

"I'll miss you, Uncle Ralph," Lisa said, hugging me goodbye. "I wish you lived closer to us so we could see you more often."

"Maybe someday, you will," I said to her.

Bentley came to me.

"Uncle Walphie, I wish you didn't have to leave. I might never see you again," he said, sounding like he was about to cry. I had played with him a lot over the past few days, it was obvious he'd grown a bit attached to me and didn't want to see me go.

"Of course we'll see each other again, Bentley," I said, trying to reassure him.

"How can I know?" he asked, worried.

"You'll know," I said.

"Hey," George said. "I know. Maybe I can send Bentley over to stay with you for a few weeks in the summer when he gets bigger?"

"That's a good idea, George," I said. "It'll do the kid some good to spend some time in the Forest."

"Bye, Uncle Walphie." Bentley waved as we left.

"See you later, uncle." Lisa also waved.

"Take care, Ralph," my sister-in-law said.

"Bye, hope to see you again soon," I said. I was going to miss them.

George drove me in his Gremlin to the train station.

"Well, Ralph. It's been great seeing you again. I really value these visits, it's a shame we don't get to see each other more often. I'd do something about it, but, what can I do?"

"Maybe someday you could move to the Evergreen Forest?" That was mostly just wishful thinking, though.

"Ah, who knows. If I get fired from my jobs too many more times I might consider it." It would come true someday, but that would be years away.

Soon, they called us to get ready to board the train.

"Well, I guess this is it. See you around, George. Don't forget to write!"

"You know I don't forget to write, Ralph, I write every opportunity I can. Write me as soon as you can! Hope you have a good ride back."

I waved goodbye to George and boarded the train. I unpacked my books, magazines, and newspapers. It would take another three days to get back home. Maybe this trip hadn't been such a good idea at all. The train rides were so dreadfully boring. In hindsight, it would probably would have been better to take a plane, but at the time I was near deathly afraid of them. I had horrendous nightmares of being in an airplane that was breaking apart in mid-flight or of being in a plane and the engines had caught on fire. Some of them were so horrible, I couldn't even tell if they were dreams or reality when I woke up.

The train soon left the station. It would be a long trip home.

**END CHAPTER SIX**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **As I said, that was probably a chapter this story could have done without, but I wanted to write this in, so, there you go. The next few chapters will be about a camping trip that the gang has that goes…awry, to say the least. You'll see what I mean.

I just guesstimated (if that isn't a word, it should be) how long a train trip would take from the Evergreen Forest (which I imagine as not being a long ways from Vancouver) to Ottawa. If I got it wrong, well...

Also, I REALLY apologize if I got Nicole's French accent totally wrong. I did take French in high school (although since I live nowhere near any French-speaking region (well, I do live within several hundred miles of Cajun country...), there's really no way I'm ever going to be able to use it). However, three years of French in high school still have not made me extremely familiar with the language, as I can barely speak it at all.

Read and review, as always. (I need to think of a more creative way to say that…)


	7. Chapter 7: The Day We Meet Again

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Not much to say, other than the next three chapters are all connected. Really, I don't have much more to say.

Oh, and by-the-by, this chapter contains what I personally think is the funniest line in this entire fanfic. See if you can spot it-if you can, a silver hotdog will be awarded to you.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the Raccoons….Blah blah blah. I will now take this opportunity to share my opinions on the actual Raccoons specials that aired before the actual show itself began. On their own, they're perfectly fine and somewhat cute. When taken with the rest of the show, however, they do not really fit in with the actual show at all. "Let's Dance!" obviously doesn't fit in as it is nothing more than a clip show/extended music video of the other three specials (A clip show BEFORE the actual show began. I never heard of such a thing in my life before. Imagine that!). "The Christmas Raccoons," the very first special, is cute, but also doesn't fit in well with the show. The animation quality is fairly poor looking (to me, anyways-I mean, look at Cyril and Cedric in this special! To be fair, it was the first special and they probably had no idea that this would ever become a TV show, most likely they thought this might just be a one-off special), and the characters are presented in a very…"embryonic," if you will, form. To be honest, the only real highlight I can think of is Cyril Sneer appearing as a completely unsympathetic monster, the opposite of what he'd end up becoming in the show. You know, "I'm Cyril Sneer, the lumber profiteer! When I'm near, trees disappear!" (That's actually one of my favorite lines in the entirety of the series.) It's actually kind of fun to see him as a total monster. And while the tone of "The Raccoons and the Lost Star" is closer to the show itself than those two, it's…woah. That has to be one of the biggest mind screws I've ever seen in my life. The fact that the Raccoons were presented as aliens living on another planet entirely….woah. That was totally not the direction this show would end up taking. (Imagine if it HAD been…) Plus, if I may be honest, I REALLY dislike the voice actress playing Melissa in that special. Why did they get a country musician to voice her? She really sounds like a hick in that special, no offense (and I should know, I AM from the American South, I actually LIVE in a trailer park-sad, I know. By the way, I meant no offense to fans of country, just felt you should know I am...well, certainly not much of a fan of it). The only special that really felt like it could have been an episode of the show is "The Raccoons on Ice"-just watch it and you'll see what I mean. Much closer In tone to the actual show. (Although Cyril is still something of a monster in this special.) I have a feeling I **might** be flamed for saying that, but remember: This is my honest-to-goodness opinion. I am fully aware if these specials never existed, there would be no show at all; I just wanted to point out that the specials are VERY…flawed, if you will._

_Also, I do not own the rights to Mount Vulcan...that belongs to Nicky4._

_But enough of that, and on to the meat and potatoes of this chapter…_

**CHAPTER SEVEN: The Day We Meet Again**

Three days had passed and now the train was finally approaching Evergreen Station.

"It's about time. This has been a long couple of weeks," I said to myself. "Huh…if only they could invent something that would allow one to teleport…" That would have been extremely handy-just as long as it didn't have any horrible side-effects on the user! (I'd seen that old movie _The Fly_, and needless to say, if that would be a side effect of teleportation, that would make it most definitely not worth it!) Of course, that was just idle musing to myself, as I knew that we didn't yet have the capacity to create such technology.

Finally, the train pulled up to the platform. As I said, it probably would have been a better idea to take a plane, but at the time I could not stand to fly at all, so that was not an option for me at the time.

At last it was time to disembark the train. Waiting on the platform were none other than Bert and Cedric.

"Hey, Ralphie!" Bert called to me. "We thought you'd never come back!"

"Of course I'm back, guys," I said. "What made you think I wouldn't come back?"

"Well," said Cedric, "you've been gone almost two weeks."

"So?" I asked.

"Well," Bert said, "we thought you'd be back much sooner."

"It was a good two weeks, I can't knock it," I said firmly.

"Wouldn't it have been more practical," Cedric asked, "to have taken an airplane?"

"Perhaps it would have been, but I decided the rails were the better way to go."

"Why's that?" Cedric asked. Neither he nor Bert knew I was scared of airplanes, only my family knew I was scared of them.

"Uh, I happen to like trains." I said. Honestly, I didn't really like them all that much, but I didn't feel like telling my friends I was afraid of flying. They would find out when we restored the 1947 Whirlyboy, when I passed out when I was asked to fly it. (Definitely not one of my prouder moments.)

"Funny," Bert said. "I never remembered you having an interest in them before."

"I just thought it would be a unique way to travel." I honestly wanted them to drop this conversation.

"Okay then." Bert decided to accept what I said, it was clear this wasn't an interesting subject either.

"So, did anything happen while I was gone?" I didn't think anything big had happened while I'd been away, otherwise they would have been eager to tell me about it right away.

"Oh, nothing much really. Cedric and I went fishing a couple times, we caught a lot of fish at our old fishing hole. Didn't we, Cedric?"

"That's right, Bert. Remember when we caught all those catfish the other day?" He laughed. Something funny must have happened (Bert probably got himself jabbed by their barbs a bunch of times, I assumed).

"That was….not one of my better moments," Bert admitted.

"Sounds like you had a rough day, Bert."

"You could say that," he replied.

"You didn't destroy the house while I was gone, did you, Bert?"

"Me? Nah, I would never do that!" Phew. I'd had a feeling he might have thrown a wild party while I was gone and ended up leaving beer bottles all over the place. That wouldn't be the first time it happened, he'd had one for his eighteenth birthday party and ended up getting in trouble with his parents.

"No wild parties, I assume?"

"Who, me? Throw a wild party? I would never!" Bert said, trying to look innocent.

"Bert," Cedric said, "you threw one when you turned eighteen, remember?"

"Oh yeah." It seemed as if he'd already forgotten about that. "Yeah, I did. But that was when I was 18, and here I am, a year and a half later. That was the old Bert-the new Bert would never do that!"

Cedric and I both laughed. "Ha-the new Bert!"

"C'mon guys, you know I've gotten more responsible over the years!"

Cedric admitted, "You have to an extent, Bert."

I had to admit too. He was helping to pitch in to pay the rent for our house. "Yes, you're right, you have. You have a job working for Mr. Willow and you're helping pay the rent on our very own Raccoondominium." Bert had already come up with the name for it, and it just sort of stuck.

"Thanks, Ralph, I do try," he said.

"So anyways, Bert, what has Melissa been up to while I was away?"

"I don't really know. I saw her a few times, she wanted to know when you were coming back. I told her I didn't know."

"It'll be good to see her again."

Bert laughed. "You missed her, eh Ralphie boy?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I guess I did."

Cedric looked at me. "Ralph, is what Bert tells me true? Are you under the spell of…love?"

"Uh, no. No, I'm not," I said, chuckling to myself. "Melissa and I are just friends, nothing more."

"Are you sure, Ralph? Bert said otherwise…"

"Yes, I'm sure, Cedric. Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"Oh okay, I was just curious."

Bert whispered into Cedric's ear, and I could make out what he said, "He's in denial."

"Oh." Cedric whispered back.

"Bert, you are aware I did hear what you just told Cedric, right?"

"Heh heh," Bert chuckled, trying to play innocent. "I didn't say anything!"

"Sure…" I said.

"Well, Ralph, let's go back home. Catch you later Cedric."

"See you later guys. I have to go help my pop count his money."

"Are you counting how much he lost at Indy AGAIN?" I was astonished. How much could Cyril Sneer have lost at Indianapolis?

Cedric chuckled. "Heh, heh, no, guys. I'm just helping him keep track of how much he currently has."

"Oh." I said. "I'd actually started thinking he might have gone bankrupt because of that little…excursion."

"No, no, Ralph, my pop has more money than that!" He said laughing. "Well, anyways, I'll see you around."

"Later, Cedric." Bert and I said as we waved goodbye.

Bert had brought our bikes to the station and we biked home.

"So," Bert asked, "what did you talk to George about? Did you ask him what I told you to ask him?"

"Yes, I did." I said confidently.

"Oh, really? What did he tell you?"

"Not much. He told me pretty much the same thing you told me though-that she probably likes me and that I probably like her."

"Well Ralph…" Bert said, with a sneering (pardon the bad pun) grin on his face, "_do _you like her?"

I'd had plenty of time to decide this on my train ride, and I'd come to a decision. I felt pretty confident I liked her as a friend, and I decided for the time being, it would be best for us to stay that way.

"As a friend, yes. I think it's best we stay that way for the present."

Bert sighed, "Sheesh, Ralphie. You're always going to stay stuck in the friend zone with that attitude."

I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe in the future, perhaps, but not right now."

"Whatever you say, Ralphie," Bert said, sighing again. He had a look on his face that basically said he was thinking, "He's hopeless!"

* * *

><p>After I'd been home a few days, I had gone back to work and one afternoon after work, I was sitting on the couch watching a baseballl game (nothing else was on the TV), while Bert was practicing his guitar again. We'd got complaints from some folks who thought his music was too loud, but Bert apologized usually and promised it wouldn't happen again. Of course, this was an empty promise-he'd continue practicing anyway after a few days. I worried that one of these times somebody might call the Evergreen Police on us.<p>

Presently there came a knock on the door.

Bert was too busy rocking out on his guitar trying to emulate Ritchie Quackmore's guitar style, so I answered the door.

"Hello?"

"Ralph, it's me. Melissa!"

"Melissa? How did you know we lived here?"

"I'll explain later, just, if you don't mind, let me in."

I was confused but I decided to let her in.

"Okay, you can come in," I said opening the door.

Much to my surprise, she put her arms around me and hugged me. "Ralph, it's so good to see you again. I was wondering when you would come home again."

"Oh, I took a train there."

She looked a bit confused. "A train? Where does your family live?"

"Actually it was just a visit to my older brother. He lives in Ottawa, currently. He's uh, had a lot of trouble holding down a steady job, so he can't seem to stay in one place for too long."

"Ottawa, huh? No wonder it took so long if you went by train," she said, laughing. "But anyways, it's great to see you again, Ralph."

"It's good to see you too, Melissa."

Bert put down his guitar and walked towards us. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing, Bert," I said, nervous all of a sudden.

"Oh hello, Bert," Melissa said. "You're not interrupting anything."

"It sure looked like I was," he said, with a rather goofy grin on his face.

"It's nothing, Bert." I said again.

"I bet you're wondering how she knows where we live?" Bert asked, still grinning goofily.

"Yes, if you don't mind?"

"Oh. I talked to Bert a few days ago. He gave me directions on how to get here," Melissa said grinning.

"Oh."

"So, this is your Raccoondominium, as Bert called it?"

"Yes, yes it is. I didn't name it, Bert chose to call it that. He was joking about our new house being like our own fancy condominium, and he then started joking that it could be our own 'Raccoondominium'. The name's sort of…stuck."

"Hey, it really is like a condo, if you really think about it!"

"I see," Melissa said.

"Yup, it's our very own bachelor pad!" Bert laughed. "So what do ya think?"

"Seems like a pretty nice place."

"Yes, Bert and I have jobs so we can pay the rent for it, otherwise, we'll lose the house and have nowhere to go."

"I remember, you told me," she said. "So, Bert, you work at Willow's store? I've seen you there a few times."

"Yeah, I do," he said. "That Mr. Willow can be a little demanding some times. But between me and Ralphie, I think I put in the most work."

"You complain about your job all the time," I said to him, he was bragging again, which was not too unusual for him, "You might do more work, but at least I don't complain."

"You would if you had my job!" Bert said.

"So what about you Melissa? Do you have a job?" I'd actually never asked her.

"Not currently, no, though I do do a few odd jobs around town."

"Such as?" I was curious.

"Oh, I help paint fences, mow lawns, and tend to people's gardens. It's not much, I know, but it pays some money, and I think that's good enough."

"Oh, ya do?" Bert said. "Maybe you could help mow our lawn!"

"I don't know about that, Bert," she said.

"I was kidding, heh heh!"

"Oh. Say, what was all that racket when I came in? Bert, was that you and your guitar?"

"Sure was!" Bert said with a healthy dose of excitement to his voice. "So what d'ya think? Am I great or what?"

"I don't know about that…" Melissa said, solidly. "But, remember you said you were good and I wanted to see you play? You owe me a free concert."

"A free concert? Hah! I can give that to ya right now! C'mon Ralph, get your drum set out and let's rock this house down!"

"Rock the house down? Oh boy…" I really didn't want to do this, but I figured I might as well. Bert would look pretty weird just playing a guitar without anyone to back him up.

We were all set up. "Alright, Melissa. I really hope you brought some earplugs because Bert is probably going to get pretty crazy."

"I always have a spare pair on me," she said, looking amused. "You never know when these might come in handy."

"Ah ha."

"Okay, are we ready?" Bert pulled out his guitar as I sat on the drums. I knew he was going to try to blow down the house with hard-hitting rock.

"Ready, Bert."

"Okay, a one, a two, a three, a four!" Bert instantly started playing a very dirty guitar tone as he began to sing:

"_My heart is black_

_And my lips are cold_

_Cities on flame_

_With rock and roll_

_Three thousand guitars_

_They seem to cry_

_My ears will melt_

_And then, my eyes_

_Let the girl_

_Let that girl rock and roll_

_Cities on flame, now_

_With rock and roll..."_

We played three more songs: a song the both of us had written together called "Restless In The Night", Deep Blue's "Woman From Tokyo," and an old blues song called "Ain't Superstitious". As I expected, Bert tried to go nuts with his guitar, trying to bust out an impressive solo on "Woman From Tokyo" and on "Restless In The Night". Myself, I thought we weren't bad, but we would have sounded better with at least a bass player and a keyboardist. As for Bert's vocals, he didn't really have the right voice for any of these songs, but he sang as well as he could. He was certainly no Freddie Mewcury or Robert Elephant, but he sang...well, decently enough.

When we closed our impromptu concert, Melissa applauded. "Bravo!" she said.

"What did you think? Was I amazing or what?"

"You were…something. I'll say that much."

"See?" Bert said, bowing to his "applause". "I know I'm gonna be a star some day."

"Maybe if you try hard enough, you could be, someday," Melissa mused. "Say, Ralph, you're not that bad of a drummer. Have you ever thought about going professional?"

"Me? I have, and I would never do it. I could never live that rock and roll lifestyle-have you seen most of those rock stars? They're all strung out on drugs. I couldn't live like that."

"Ah, I understand," she said. "I couldn't imagine having to be on the road all the time either. You'd get homesick fast."

"Yeah," Bert said, "but think of all the girls! The luxuries! The awards! And that's all worth it." I could tell Bert was already imagining himself with a world famous band on a big world tour with a bunch of groupies. The idea was extremely tantalizing to him.

"You can have your awards and girls and luxuries, Bert," I said, not too amused, "but I'm just fine here in the forest."

"Ralph, I've told you there's always room in my future band. You can be my drummer, no problem."

"Bert, I've told you I don't want to go into the music business. If I ever did, I'd probably just be a lyricist."

"Ah, c'mon Ralphie, you know-"

Melissa interrupted him. "Okay, you guys, calm down. There's no need for you to argue." She was right.

"Sorry, Melissa." I said. "That was such a silly argument."

"I know," Bert said. "Say, Melissa. Ever been to a concert before?"

"Me? No, I haven't. I'd really like to go, but my father doesn't want me to go. He thinks with the concert scene these days, something bad could happen if I go by myself. I love my Dad, but sometimes I think he's too overprotective."

"That's a darn shame," Bert said. "I've been to…I guess at least ten different concerts. I went to Vancouver several times to see some big acts like Steel Airship and Deep Blue. You know, at the...what's it called?"

"The Pacific Coliseum," I replied.

"Ah, that's right! The Pacific Coliseum. You know, where the Canucks play? They hold concerts there every so often. I've been to quite a few of them."

"Ah," Melissa said. "What about you Ralph?"

"Me? Only once, and it was a band I didn't even like."

"What band was that?"

"Uriah Sheep. Bert took me, it was my second year of high school."

"Uriah Sheep? The name doesn't ring a bell," Melissa admitted.

"I don't even remember what they played," I said; honestly, I genuinely did not enjoy that show. "Bert took myself and Cedric with him because he'd gotten three tickets for the show-it was at the Coliseum. Hold on-I can remember two songs they played-one was 'Easy Living', and the other…I don't even remember the name…how did it go? Something or other I should have been buying..."

Bert chimed in, "I know that song you're talking about-'Stealin''! And I don't know what you're talking about Ralphie, it was a great show."

"Oh, that's right, I remember now-"Stealin' when I should have been buyin'", I think. No offense Bert, but I thought they were way too loud."

"Oh, I think I vaguely remember hearing about them," Melissa said.

Bert growled. "C'mon, Ralph, you know they were a great act."

I shrugged. "Not really, Bert."

We chatted a little while longer.

"Have you met our friend Cedric?" I asked.

"Cedric? Yes, I met him, he seems like a nice guy."

"He's Cyril Sneer's son." Bert quipped.

"Cyril Sneer? The businessman Cyril Sneer?"

"Yes, that's his father." I said.

"My dad's afraid of him. He fears that Mr. Sneer is going to buy up his bar and force him out of business. I've heard he's not very nice at all."

"Cedric says his dad's not that bad once you get to know him better." I said, as that was what Cedric had told us. We'd yet to see the other side of him, however. "But I wouldn't know that, personally."

"Cedric and his dad must be polar opposites," Melissa replied.

"They most certainly are!" Bert replied emphatically.

"Well, it's been nice chatting with you guys, but I think I need to head home. My dad probably wants me home by now. I'm twenty years old, I feel like I can take care of myself just fine, but my dad isn't too sure."

"Ah, it was nice seeing you again. See you later!" I said, enthusiastically. A little _too _enthusiastically, because Bert immediately raised an eyebrow.

"Bye Ralph. See ya later, Bert," she said as we waved goodbye to her.

After she left, Bert talked to me again. "Ralphie, I can't believe you don't want to go out with her. She's interested in you, why don't you want to take the opportunity and seize the day!" Bert had remembered one of our eccentric professor's speech about "Carpe Diem," which meant "Seize the day!"

"I don't know Bert," I said. "I just have a feeling if I rushed into one now it would turn out very badly."

"Why do you doubt yourself so much, Ralph?"

"Personal experience."

"C'mon Ralph," Bert said.

"I guess we'll see were our friendship takes us. But you want me to be honest?" I had a confession to make.

"Honest about what?" I'd taken him by surprise.

"Bert, I…don't think I'm good enough for her…" It was the truth. At that moment, I really did realize the whole truth. I _did _like her, a lot. But I could never ask her out. Because…I knew she could be with someone better than me. I was nothing but a young raccoon with an ambition to work in newspaper journalism. She was trying to embark on a career in photography, a considerably more…exciting line of work than mine. What would I have to provide her that somebody else wouldn't be able to do better?

"Not good enough for her? What are you talking about?" Bert looked at me like I was crazy.

"Think about it Bert."

"No, buddy, what on earth are you talking about?" Bert must have really thought I was crazy.

"Oh, you know Bert," I said, sadly. "I'm just a plain old boring guy with a future in newswriting, at least, I hope. That's not exciting enough. Melissa would be much better off with someone else. I'm sure there would be plenty of other guys around the Forest that would be better for her than I."

"Ralph, are you crazy?"

"I don't know, am I?" I didn't think I sounded crazy.

"Ralph, let me be honest." Here Bert was, trying to cheer me up again when I felt depressed.

"Honest about what?" I responded, nearly echoing his words.

"Ralph, she sees something in you that she likes. I don't what that could be, you'd have to ask her."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Bert…"

"Well, think of this at least Ralph. She likes being around you, right?"

"Right," I said rather lowly.

"If you asked her, she probably would say you were good enough for her."

"Bert, that would probably scare her."

"Heh heh, oh you're right. That probably would be a terrible thing to ask Melissa…"

We both did laugh a bit. That would have been a pretty ridiculous question to ask.

"But seriously, Ralph, you just need to be a little more confident in yourself. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"I suppose not." He was right-I did need to stop being down on myself so much.

"Good. So, you admit you like her, eh Ralph?" Bert had that goofy grin on his face again.

I decided not to lie. "Yeah, I suppose I do…"

"Heh, heh, I knew you couldn't fool me. Now, since it's getting close to that time, let's have supper. What'll it be-peanut butter pizza?"

"Peanut butter pizza!" I groaned. "Oh, not again…"

* * *

><p>A few more weeks passed and now it was the second week of August.<p>

It was the middle of the week, and Bert was excited because, this particular weekend, he had something big planned….

"Ralph, I have all our stuff! Got it the other day at the store. Can you wait until this weekend? We're gonna go canoeing up Evergreen River and go hiking up Mount Vulcan!"

This had meant a lot to Bert. He'd wanted to do this for a few summers but hadn't been able to get the right gear for the trip. Now that he had, it looked like his trip would at last come to fruition.

"You got the tents this time?"

"Yep! Right here!"

I was looking forward to this too. I certainly wasn't the most…athletic man in the world, but a weekend in the outdoors would be a nice change of pace.

"Bert, you invited Cedric, too, right? It wouldn't be right to leave him behind, unless his pop has him busy working again." Knowing Cyril, that wasn't all that unlikely.

"Of course, I did, Ralph! He's coming along with us, he promised. He had to tell a lie to his pop though." Of course Cyril would not be too keen on him having an outdoor adventure with us-he seemed to be afraid that we would lead Cedric astray.

"What did he tell Cyril?"

"He told him that he had to attend a reunion of the Young Aardvark's Society." Cedric actually _did _have to attend such a meeting, but it wasn't for another few weeks. I wondered how he would get out of this without getting in trouble-he hated lying, but sometimes had to lie to be able to spend time with us.

"So, it's just you, me, and Cedric?" I asked.

"Yeah, unless you want to invite someone else."

"I guess the three of us will be good enough."

Bert, however, started smirking. "C'mon Ralph. I _know _you want to invite Melissa to come with us."

I hated when he smirked like that. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, come one. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it…."

I couldn't lie. "Alright, you got me. I have been thinking about it, but, I'm not sure she would be interested in going along with us…"

"Nonsense, Ralph! I'm sure she wouldn't mind tagging along." Bert seemed pretty confident of that.

He then handed the telephone to me. "Call her number and ask her if she'll come with us. You can do it, it's not that hard."

I felt a little nervous, but I managed to dial the number. "That's good!" I thought to myself. "Maybe I have improved since high school. I couldn't call Linda McDuffie back then, but I can call Melissa now no problem!"

The phone rang a few times and sure enough, she picked it up. "Hello? This is Melissa Mulligan, may I ask who this is speaking?"

"Uh, Melissa, this is Ralph. Ralph Raccoon."

"Ralph! So good to hear from you." She sounded pretty happy to hear from me. "You must have called me about something important. So what's up?"

"Erm, Melissa, Bert is having an outdoor excursion this weekend, and we'd like to know if you'd like to come with us."

"Come with you? Of course I'll go, it's no problem at all. So who else is going?"

"Cedric, Bert, and me."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. Just the three of us."

"Four of us, you mean," she said chuckling.

"Yeah, four of us."

"So what all do you have planned to do?"

"Erm, we were going canoeing up the Evergreen River," I said, matter-of-factly, "and then we plan to hike up Mount Vulcan."

"Oh, I'm looking forward to hiking up Mount Vulcan. I always enjoy hiking; I wish I had more opportunities to do it." She sounded pretty eager to go along with us.

"Alright, so you can definitely come with us?"

"I'll have to ask my dad first. He likes to know about stuff like this first, I don't think he would take it well if I went off without telling him first." She laughed a bit.

"I understand." She had said her dad was a bit protective, after all.

"Can you hold on a minute? I'll go ask him right now."

"Sure thing, Melissa."

"Alright, I'll be right back." I heard her put the phone down (but not hang it up). I could hear her father and her conversing with each other faintly in the distance, and then I heard that familiar gruff voice over the phone.

"Hello," it said, "is this Ralph Raccoon?"

"Yes, Mike, it's me, Ralph."

"Ah. Good to hear from ya again, kid, it's been a while since I've heard from you. So how've you been?"

"I've been fine, Mike. Life's been a little bit boring lately, but I've been doing all right."

"Good, good. So, I hear you plan on having your little outdoor adventure."

"Yes, Mike, that is what we plan to do. It's this weekend."

"And you're planning on asking my daughter to come with you?" He sounded a bit cautious.

"Yes, Mike."

"Let me say, first of all, that I have no problem with her going with you and your friends. But…" His voice changed tone to a bit more of a harsh one.

"But what?"

"But first I should lay down some basic ground rules." He sounded a bit nasty.

"Ground rules?" I was curious.

"Yeah, ground rules. If Melissa is going with you, you must know that I consider you responsible for her safety. She is your responsibility and nothing had better happen to her on this trip of yours."

"What would happen if something _did_ happen?" I asked out of curiosity.

His voice tone got angry. "You _really_ want to know what I'm gonna do to you if something happens to my little girl?"

"If you don't mind." I hesitated, fearing it would be something…well, something not very nice.

"It's very simple. If something bad happens to her and she doesn't come back or she comes back hurt and it's your fault, I'm gonna cut yer belly open, pull your guts out, and stuff them down your throat so that you choke to death on them! You got that?"

I gulped. That was…very unpleasant.

"What about my friends?"

"Oh, your friends? Well, if something happens to her, not only will I mess _**you **_up, I'll mess_** them**_ up too! That raccoon friend of yours? I'm gonna chop his head off and hang it up on my bar-room wall and use his body as my own personal footstool! And as for that other friend of yours, that Sneer kid? Well, I'll carve my name into his back with a pick-axe and drink his blood out with a drinking straw! You got me, kid?"

Needless to say, this was an extremely compelling argument with which there was absolutely no way of arguing against! "I understand you, Mike. I promise nothing will happen to her."

"Good, good…." he said, his voice returning to his usual gruff but friendly tone. "I just figured you ought to know that, kid."

"I understand fully."

"Say, wait a minute. How the hell are you friends with a Sneer? I live in fear that monster Cyril will run me out of business…"

"It's a long story, and, I'm sure you don't want to hear it."

"Oh, I do, I do, I have all the time in the world. Do tell me." He seriously wanted to know?

"Um, it's a long story. Maybe another time."

"Fine, fine, another time. Alright. I think I told him, Melissa, here ya go." I heard her speak into the phone again.

"I apologize about my dad," she said stoically. "Like I said, he can be a bit too overprotective. I wish he wouldn't do that…"

I heard him shout in the background. "I am _not _too overprotective! A father can never over-protect his children."

"Dad, I'm almost twenty-one," I heard her speaking to him. "I think I can take care of myself just fine."

I heard him shouting something in the background again; I couldn't make out what he said this time.

"Sorry, Ralph. I don't think you needed to hear that."

"It's alright. No really, it is."

"Ah, okay. Well, I can't wait for our trip this weekend. Meet me at my house, if you don't mind. I have to get some things ready."

"Such as?" I was a bit curious.

"Well, my camera for one. I want to take some pictures of the scenery."

"Ah. Those would probably be nice."

"I think I've gotta go, Ralph. See ya this Saturday!"

"Sure thing. See you then!" I said. I hung up.

Bert was now sitting down watching another one of his favorite sitcoms.

"Well, how'd it go, Ralph?"

"She can go with us Bert."

"I bet _you're _excited about that, aren't you?" Bert said, chuckling to himself.

"Sure, I guess. It'll be nice to spend some time with her."

I went to sleep that night feeling great. This weekend was going to be a lot of fun. It wasn't every day that I got to have that kind of enjoyment! This would be a weekend to remember.

**END CHAPTER SEVEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: So the big camping trip is now set up. It looks like things might truly go Ralph's way now. However, what kinds of disasters will await our gang? Find out in the next chapter, Chapter 8. (That's as much of a spoiler you're going to get this time.)

The song you see in this chapter is Blue Oyster Cult's _Cities On Flame With Rock And Roll_ (interesting title, Blue Oyster Cult were known for giving their songs goofy names), it is from their 1972 self-titled debut albums. The lyrics do not belong to me, they are copyright of their respective owners and were written by Albert Bouchard, Sandy Pearlman, and Donald "Buck Dharma" Roeser. A cover of this song appears in one of the _Guitar Hero_ games (not sure which one, though-I don't play _Guitar Hero_) and also appears on a soundtrack album for _That '70s Show_. The other three songs Bert and Ralph play: _Restless In The Night _is from the show itself (one of the many pop songs used on the show-I thought it would be funny to imagine Bert performing it as a heavy metal number), _Woman From Tokyo _is by Deep Purple and is from their 1973 album _Who Do We Think We Are!_, and _I Ain't Superstitious _is originally by Willie Dixon but is most famous for being covered by the Jeff Beck Group on their debut album from 1968, _Truth_ (fun fact: Rod Stewart was the lead singer in that band...). May I just take this opportunity to explain that I am an amateur rock music historian/critic, so I have been exposed to a rather large amount of albums and an even larger amount of songs.

Uriah Sheep is a Raccoons' version of Uriah Heep, a 1970s progressive metal band known for their 2 hits, "Easy Livin'" and "Stealin'". My mother saw them in concert in the 1980s (minus their original lead singer, David Byron). Needless to say, I definitely do not think Ralph would like this band (Bert probably would, though). As far as I know, though, they never played Vancouver, so that is fictitious.

As for Steel Airship, well, if you can't guess what band that is a Raccoons version of, you fail music forever (Okay, maybe I'm a little harsh there, but seriously. It SHOULD be obvious). It's none other than Led Zeppelin (I am a confirmed Zephead for life, as a matter of fact, I'm something of an amateur historian when it comes to them). They really _did _play at Vancouver's Pacific Coliseum (which indeed was home to the Canucks back then) in real life, as a matter of fact, several times in the 1970s. They actually opened their 1970 Spring North American Tour there, and they also played their in 1971, 1973, and two consecutive nights in 1975.

And as always, don't forget to read and review.


	8. Chapter 8: Paint It Black

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **In this chapter, our gang embarks on their big camping trip that they have planned. However, will things go to plan or will their trip prove to be absolutely disastrous? Find out in the following chapter.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the Raccoons. And now, time for a quote I find inspiring, from none other than the late, great Jim Morrison (of the Doors): "Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free." My deepest fear is (prepare to laugh) a fear of needles. Maybe I should follow this advice and use it for myself. Sort of had to, actually: I just had my wisdom teeth pulled yesterday. Lucky me that I was unconcious when that happened..._

_Anyways…_

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Paint It Black**

It was a perfect day. A clear blue day, not a cloud in sight. Our outdoor adventure had gone perfectly. Now we were lazily making our way down the river. Bert was rowing and going on about something I wasn't really paying attention to. Cedric was pointing out landmarks on the shoreline (admittedly, there weren't very many), and as for Melissa and I? We were both rowing and chatting with each other.

"Ralph, I never thought you would have known so much about the outdoors."

"You'd be surprised at a lot of things I do know."

"How'd you ever get to be such a sweetheart, Ralph? I'm surprised there haven't been more girls interested in you."

"That's just who I am, really." I smiled.

"Hey, look over there!" Cedric said, pointing. "I think I can see Beaver-bite Swamp in the distance!"

"Beaver-bite Swamp?" I said. "I don't think I want to go there."

"Me either," Melissa said. "You know, I'm sure it's not a terrible place but it probably smells worse than a rotten fish."

I chuckled a bit.

"Ah, this is the life, gang, isn't it?" Bert said as we continued to row downriver.

"It sure is," Melissa said.

"You couldn't have said it any better," I said, agreeing with her.

"I may love Pop," Cedric said, "but it sure is nice to be out here and away from him for a while!"

We all laughed at that comment.

There was no way this day could possibly go wrong.

Then suddenly, the sky darkened.

Dark storm clouds rushed in and blocked out the sun. All of a sudden, all was very dark out.

We could hear thunder rumbling from up in the sky.

"Storms?" Cedric said, surprised. "But I thought today was supposed to have perfect weather?"

"It was sunny just a moment ago," Melissa said, worriedly, "where did all the clouds come from?"

"I don't know," I said. "I swear this wasn't forecast."

"Storms? Pah!" Bert said, scoffing. "I'm not scared of a few showers. I think we can make it the rest of the way downriver."

"Bert, are you sure you want to do this…" Melissa said, sounding afraid.

"Bert, remember, if it starts storming too badly, the river will get rough and it'll be hard for us to get to shore. We may get wrecked!" I felt nervous as well.

"You guys aren't scared of a little storm, are you?" Bert seemed determined to continue his course, not deterred by the sudden change of the weather for the worse.

"I'm not scared of the storm at all," Cedric replied. "I just don't think it's very safe for us to continue further down the river in this weather."

"Bert, please, if you don't mind, I think we should head for shore and wait the storm out." Melissa was scared, I could tell. I felt scared too. What could happen if we continued further down the river in this type of weather? I felt worried something bad might happen to us.

"C'mon you guys, I swear, I know what I'm-" He was interrupted as lightning streaked down from the sky and hit on the shore not too far from where we were.

"YIKES!" Bert shrieked, all of his fur standing up on end.

"C-c-can we get to shore?" Melissa asked, her voice trembling with fear.

"I don't know!" I said, extremely concerned. "It doesn't look safe! Our only option may be for us to stay on the river!"

"Stay on the river? We'll never survive in this type of weather!" Cedric was now scared too, we all were. We didn't know what to do.

"It's our only hope!" Bert said, as the storm picked up and the wind started blowing. "Hold on, everybody!"

Instantly, the water became a lot rougher and we were being tossed and bounced around. We couldn't even use our paddles-the river had us firmly in its grip.

Bert shouted out, "Help! Somebody help us!"

"I don't want to die!" Melissa clung to me fearfully.

"But who can possibly help us now?" I said, utterly terrified. This had gone from a perfect day to the scariest moment of my entire life. Our lives were all in imminent danger.

"I don't think anyone can help us!" Cedric was in danger of being thrown out the canoe, so Bert was hanging on to him to keep from being tossed right out of the canoe to his likely demise.

Suddenly, we saw a sight ahead that we all knew meant bad news for us all.

We were about to hit…

…The Evergreen Rapids.

"Not the rapids!" I cried out in horror. "We'll be wrecked for sure!" I knew it too. The rapids were extremely rough and there were many sharp rocks submerged or partially submerged waiting to tip our canoe over. We were doomed.

"Ralph," Melissa said, hugging me tightly, "is this the end?" She was crying.

"I don't know," I said, trying my hardest to comfort her even though in this situation there wasn't much use in trying. "I just hope we don't get hurt too badly…."

"Maybe if we're lucky, we can make it thr-!" We'd hit the rapids and we were being bucked and bounced around as if we were bull riders at a rodeo.

"HELP!" We all screamed, realizing this would not end well.

Sure enough, our boat hit a rock which tore a big hole through the bottom of the canoe.

"Oh no!" Bert screamed. "This really is the end!"

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" We all screamed as our boat hit another rock and tipped over, throwing all of us overboard into the rapids.

We were now at the mercy of the rapids.

Bert and Cedric managed to climb onto the shore, which wasn't far away. I managed to reach the shore too. Maybe our canoe had been destroyed and our trip utterly ruined, but at least we were all alive. Now we would have to sit here and wait for someone to rescue us.

Except…Wait a minute. Where was Melissa? Oh no! She wasn't on the shore with us!

Then I saw her. She was clinging on to the bottom of the upturned canoe. It was wedged in between a couple of rocks. She wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer, though, as the boat was already beginning to crack in half. It would soon break and she would be carried away with it to her certain demise. Not even her life vest would be able to save her.

I could hear her screaming for help. "Hellllllllp meeeee! Somebody, please, helllllpp! Helllllppp!"

I realized that I had managed to save our emergency safety rope that we had in case one of us did go overboard. It was a good thing we had prepared for something similar to this happening. I could throw her the rope (she wasn't that far away, it appeared that it could easily reach her) and save her.

"Hang on Melissa, I'm coming to help!" I called to her.

"Ralph!" She said, seeing me. She felt glad, she was certain I would rescue her. "My hero! Please, hurry and toss the rope!"

"Hold on!" I said, as I tossed the rope out to her. If she caught it, I could pull her to shore with it and she would be saved.

Unfortunately….the rope…missed. It turned out, the rope just was not long enough to reach her.

"Ralllllllphhhhh!" Melissa screamed, realizing that she was, for all intense and purposes, doomed.

"Melissa, noooooooo!" Bert and Cedric could do nothing but watch in horror.

Just a moment or two later, the rushing rapids snapped the overturned canoe in half and the pieces were swept away. I could only watch in utter horror as Melissa was carried away with it.

"NOOOOOOOO!" I could hear her screaming as she was carried away.

I broke down and started crying. The one woman I thought I might have had a chance with…and she was gone now. She was dead, killed in the rapids. What was I going to do? What was going to happen to me now? Would they ever find her? What would Mike Mulligan do to me now that his daughter was dead? Would he really cut my belly open and spill my guts all over the place?

"Melissa," I said, sobbing. "I-I-I'm s-s-s-s-so s-s-s-s-sorry…."

Bert spoke up. "Ralph, how could you let her die?"

Huh? That was not what I expected him to say at all. I expected him to be upset, too, and I would have expected him to try to comfort me and tell me it wasn't my fault and that there was nothing I could have done different. I was expecting him tell me that things like this could just happen and that I did everything I could do to help her. And instead, he was blaming me for her death.

"Bert, I didn't let her die, I tried to help her, but the rope wasn't long enough…"

"No, Ralph. You could have done more. You could have gone in there and saved her. But you didn't, Ralph. You killed her."

What the hell was wrong with Bert? This was totally unlike him at all.

"How was it my fault? What could I have done different?"

Cedric glared at me. "Ralph, you should have dived in there and rescued her. If anyone should have drowned, it should have been you. Not Melissa."

What on earth was wrong with them? This was not like either of them in the slightest.

"But, you guys…"

Suddenly, the scenery around me changed. The sky turned a bloody red and the cliffs grew taller and menacing. Blood started oozing down the cliffs.

What was going on?

"There's no buts about it, Ralph!" Bert said. Something looked different about him. His eyes had grown angry-looking. They had turned bloody red, they were bloodshot, and there was blood oozing from his eyes down his face. He had an evil twisted smile on his face. I was scared. What on earth was going on? This was far from normal. Was I going insane?

"What do you mean-" Cedric interrupted me.

"You know what Bert means, Ralph! Isn't that right, Bert?" Cedric looked different too. His glasses were broken, and pieces of glass were jabbed through his eyes. Blood was streaming down his face as well and he too had the most wicked smile I'd ever seen. It looked unnatural.

"Of course I do, Cedric!"

Bert and Cedric both suddenly appeared to be nearly thirty feet tall, and they were suddenly towering over me. They both looked utterly demonic.

They both screamed in unison: "_**YOU COULDN'T SAVE HER! YOU WEREN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER! YOU KILLED HER! YOU COULDN'T SAVE HER! YOU WEREN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER! YOU KILLED HER!**_"

I was terrified. Their voices now sounded like the voices of demons.

"N-n-no…" I looked around. The cliffs were still there, but the river, the opposite shore, the trees, everything was gone. All that surrounded us was a big bloody red and black void.

I ran through the void, hoping to get away from the now demented pair that had once been my closest friends. I could still hear their demonic voices and it was clear that they were probably following me.

"_**YOU COULDNNNNNNNNN'T SAAAAAVVVVEEEEEE HER…**_"

"AHHHHHHHH!" I ran as fast I could, hearing their voices become more distant and more distorted.

"I think I lost them…" Then I saw her. She was facing away from me. It was Melissa! She was alive! I felt so happy and relieved. This madness would end soon. I extended my arms expecting her to hug me and shouted to her.

"Melissa, thank goodness! You're alive! You won't believe the insanity that's going on…"

But much to my surprise, she didn't turn around and hug me. Instead, she spoke.

"Ralph Raccoon, I can't believe I ever trusted you. When my life was on the line, you didn't save me, you let me die. I'm _not _alive, I'm _**DEAD! **_And it's all thanks to you! You killed me! I will _**NEVER **_forgive you, Ralph!"

"H-huh?" I was shocked.

She then turned around. Something was horribly wrong with her too. One of her eyes had popped out and there was just a bloody hole where it had been. All of her teeth were broken. Even more horrifying, the front part of her skull was missing and her fur was rotting away-she was decomposing! She had essentially become a zombie.

"No-no-no, Melissa…" This was the most terrifying day of my life.

She suddenly stood about thirty feet tall as well, and her voice took on the same demonic tone as Bert's and Cedric's, who I could hear again not too far behind me.

"_**YOU KILLED ME! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!**_"

"Waaaaauggggghhh!" I screamed as I ran away from her. I passed many, many familiar faces as I ran from the three of them, among them Cyril Sneer, his three pigs, my mother, my father, George and Nicole as well as Lisa and Bentley. All of them stood nearly thirty feet tall and were grotesquely disfigured. I ran as they all pursued me. I could hear all their voices behind me.

"_**YOU COULDN'T SAVE HER! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU! RALPH RACCOON IS A MURDERER!**_"

"Ah! There's no way out of here." I found myself trapped. I was standing before a bloody red and black sea, with no way to get away. I could hear them all closing in on me.

Then, the sea stirred and bubbled. And out of the sea came a nearly one hundred foot tall Mike Mulligan. His face was covered in blood and his eye patch was gone. His eye wasn't stitched up like usual, either. It was an empty hole and a ton of blood was dripping out of it. Most disturbingly, he had a switchblade stuck in his chest.

Mike spoke, his voice also sounding like that of a demon. "**RALPH RACCOON! I TRUSTED YOU, KID! I HAD FAITH IN YOU-I THOUGHT YOU WOULD MAKE SURE MY LITTLE GIRL WOULD BE SAFE. BUT NOW, SHE'S DEAD! AND I AM HOLDING **_**YOU **_**RESPONSIBLE FOR HER DEATH!**"

I shrunk in fear. "Y-y-you're not going to cut my belly open, are y-y-y-you?"

Mike laughed the most horrifying laugh. "**CUT YOUR BELLY OPEN! HAHAHAHA! THAT WOULD BE TOO LIGHT A PUNISHMENT FOR YOU! INSTEAD, KID, I'M GONNA EAT YOU ALIVE!**"

I gulped in fear. "E-e-eat me alive?"

"**YES.**" He then reached down with his massive hand and grabbed me by my scarf. He picked me up off the ground and was slowly pulling me up towards his opened mouth. I could see all my friends, family, and acquaintances cheering him on as I got closer and closer to his mouth.

"N-n-no…." I said, trembling as I realized this was how it would all end.

"**HAHAHAHAHA…**" he laughed as he held me up over his mouth.

Then he let go of me and I fell into the cavern of his mouth.

I was falling, falling, falling…

* * *

><p>"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Suddenly, I realized I was in my bedroom, in the Raccoondominium. It was thundering outside and it was raining heavily. My heart was thundering too-faster than a Kentucky Derby racehorse.<p>

I realized quickly that that had all been just a dream. Just a horrible, horrible dream. But it had felt so real. I could have sworn it was real. I had never had a dream that had been so terrifying, so real, so…horrible. Did it mean something? Or…HAD it been a dream? I could not honestly say.

Within a minute, Bert opened up my bedroom door. I was scared at first when I saw the door open since I still wasn't completely sure whether that had been a dream or reality. I was expecting him to come in all bloodied and mangled and speak in a demonic tone. Fortunately, he didn't.

"Ralph?" He asked, yawning. "I heard you screaming like a banshee just a minute ago. Is something the matter?"

"N-n-nothing, Bert." I didn't want to tell him.

"No, Ralph. Something has to be wrong for you to scream like that."

"Bert, I had the most horrible nightmare," I confessed.

"Ah. I figured you had had a nightmare or something." He rubbed his eyes. It was still dark outside, so it must have still been in the middle of the night.

"It was awful, Bert. I've never had a dream that terrible before. Not even when I was little."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ralphie." He said, sighing. "What happened in your dream?"

"Bert, I dreamed we went on our camping trip, and the weather turned horrible and we ended up getting wrecked in the rapids."

"Oh, you did? Don't worry, Ralph. That's not going to happen on our trip at all. The weather's perfect for this weekend, I heard. We'll be just fine."

"That's not all Bert. Melissa was stranded on our canoe and was calling for help. I tried to save her, but I couldn't. She was swept away. Bert, Melissa died in my dream."

Bert did chuckle a bit. "Well, I can't blame you for being terrified there. I would probably be scared too if I had a dream about the love of my life dying."

I growled. "Bert, she's not the love of my life, I just happen to like her, is all." I wasn't in the mood to argue right now.

Bert didn't argue; he just shrugged. "Okay, whatever. So, that was your dream, eh?"

"No, that's not all that happened. You and Cedric both started blaming me for her death. Then everything went…well…crazy from there." I was still freaking out, somewhat.

"What do you mean everything went crazy?"

I explained it to him as best I could.

Bert looked a bit surprised. "Wow, Ralphie. That _does _sound like quite a bad dream. "

I looked down at my bed, still shaking a bit. "I know, Bert, I know."

"Ralph, it's alright; you don't need to worry. It was just a dream! We all have bad dreams like that once in a while."

"You don't understand," I said, nervously, "what if that dream means something?"

"Huh," Bert said, in a confused way, "what do you mean?"

"I have a feeling that dream was trying to tell me something…."

Bert shrugged. "I don't know Ralphie, you always seem to think your dreams have hidden meanings to them. I don't think they do, it's nothing to worry about!"

I still wasn't convinced.

"No, Bert. What if something's happened to Melissa?" I was really worried something actually _might _have happened to her.

"Ralph, Ralph, calm down! Nothing's happened to her-I'm sure she's just fine. You have nothing to worry about!"

"I don't know, Bert," I said panicking, which was rather unusual for me. "What if something did happen to her? How would you know? It could already be too late."

"Ralph!" Bert said. "C'mon, you never act like this."

"I'm just worried…" I said, solemnly.

"Look, Ralph, if you're that worried, why don't you just call up the Mulligan house? I imagine that neither Melissa nor her dad will be pleased that you called them at this hour of the morning, though."

Bert was probably right, but I was half awake and not thinking clearly at the time. I didn't care. I raced downstairs and picked up the telephone. I quickly dialed the Mulligan's number.

After several rings, the phone picked up, and I could hear the gruff voice of Mike Mulligan speaking that was already so familiar to me. "Hello. What are you doing calling me at this hour of the night?"

"Mike, it's me, Ralph Raccoon."

"Ralph? Sheesh, kid, what are you doing calling me at this ungodly hour? You got something wrong?"

"I need to speak to Melissa, please."

"You do? That's twice in one day. Once to ask her to go on a trip with you, and now this. What, are you trying to get cozy with her or something? Because if you are, you'd best get that idea out of your head right now, Mister Casanova. But anyways she's asleep in bed. Hold on, I'll go get her," he said rather grouchily.

I heard him calling her to get up, and after a minute or two, I heard her answer the phone.

"Hello…?" I heard her ask in a very tired sounding voice. She yawned.

"Melissa, is that you?"

"Ralph? What are you doing calling here? It's not even sunrise yet. It's only three in the morning," she said, yawning again.

"Thank goodness, you're alright Melissa. I was really worried." I sounded it too.

"Well, of course I'm alright, Ralph. Why wouldn't I be?" She seemed a bit annoyed that I was talking to her this early in the morning.

"I was just really concerned, Melissa. I thought something might have happened to you."

"This isn't like you at all, Ralph. I'm fine, I promise I am. I'm just really tired. Can't you let me go back to sleep?" She was annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I was just really worried…" I said repeating myself.

"No, no, it's alright Ralph. But I think the question is," she yawned again, "are you alright? You don't sound like you're doing well." She could tell I had been panicking.

"Really, I'm fine, Melissa. I was just wondering if you were okay, there's nothing wrong."

"Are you sure, Ralph? You definitely don't sound it. You sound like you just saw the devil himself. Did something happen to you?" She could tell something was up, but I did not want to discuss it with her. She would figure out I liked her, and this was NOT how I wanted her to figure it out.

"No, really, I'm fine. Thanks for asking, anyways."

"Are you hiding something from me, Ralph? You don't have to, you can tell me anything. I won't laugh." She said, sounding really concerned.

"No, no, you don't need to worry, I'll be alright," I said, trying to get her to drop the subject.

"Okay," Melissa said, still sounding a little concerned. "I'm just a little bit worried because this is not like you at all. Ralph, if you feel you need to talk to me about this, feel free to talk to me anytime."

"Okay, then. I'll talk to you later."

"Later, Ralph," she said as I hung up the phone.

Bert was already sitting down on the couch. I sat down beside him.

"So was Melissa alright, Ralph?"

"Yes, she's fine." I said, a bit more relieved. "But she's worried something's wrong with me."

"She has good reason to, you're acting weird." Bert said, yawning.

"I was just worried," I said, repeating myself again. I must have been really tired.

"Gee, Ralphie," Bert said, chuckling a bit, "you must _really _love her to call her at this hour of the night!"

"Bert!" I said, not very happily. "Wouldn't you call Cedric if you thought something happened to him?"

"Cedric? No, I wouldn't, actually. I know dreams don't mean anything, they're just stuff you see in your sleep."

"Oh," I said. I felt pathetic. "I'm sorry about this Bert. This isn't going to happen again."

"Better not," he said, frowning. "You realize we got work in a few hours?"

"I do now…." I said remembering.

"This is certainly going to put a damper on our work performance."

"I know….you're not mad at me, are you?"

"Nah, I'm not mad," Bert said. "That dream really did a number on you, didn't it?"

"Yeah…" I sighed.

"Well, Ralph. I'm gonna go back to bed," Bert said as he walked to the stairs. "Or try to, I don't know if I can now. What about you?"

"No, Bert, I don't think I will. I don't think I could sleep right now. I'm scared I might have the dream again." I really was.

"Alright, Ralphie. Do ya need anything? I can get you something if you do."

"No…I'm…fine." I said, lamely.

"Well alright. If you need anything call me."

"I will," I said.

I spent the rest of the night just sitting on the couch, unable to go back to sleep. I tried to see if there was anything on the television. Since it was early in the morning, there was nothing at all of note on.

I ended up going to work at Lassater's that morning. But it didn't go well. I fell asleep trying to wipe one of the tables off. Mr. Lassater came out, woke me up, and asked what the problem was.

"Ralph, what's the problem? You've never done this before. Is something wrong?"

"Mr. Lassater, I…I…I don't feel well. I feel sick. I probably shouldn't have come in this morning, but I thought if I didn't, I'd get fired."

"Fired? Nah, son. Tell you what-I'll give you the rest of the day off. You go home and get some rest. Need you back at peak performance," he said chuckling.

"Yes, sir." I said as I put my rag down and went home.

I laid down the rest of the day. Bert got home from work around three o'clock.

"Ralph?" He seemed surprised to see me home so early.

"Oh, hello, Bert," I said, groggily.

"Ralph, what are you doing home?"

"I couldn't stay awake at work…Mr. Lassater told me to go home. I feel terrible right now."

"Ralph, are you still bothered by that dream you had?" Bert was concerned.

"A little bit," I sighed.

"Ralph, if you don't want to go on the trip, you don't have to. I'm not gonna force you to go if you don't want to."

"Bert, I do want to go, it's just…I need some rest, please."

"Well, if you're not feeling any better soon, we ought to take you to Dr. Canard," he said.

"No, no!" I said. Like a lot of people, I really did not like visiting the doctor. "I'll be just fine."

"Okay then."

* * *

><p>The next day, I felt much better and had already almost completely forgotten about the dream. Bert was getting all of our equipment ready.<p>

"Yahoo! It's almost time for us to go!" Bert was ecstatic. "Is that everything?"

"I think so," I said.

At that moment, Cedric arrived.

"Hi, you two!" Cedric said as he waved to us.

"Hey, Cedric!" Bert said. "We're all ready to go! We just need to pick Melissa up from her place."

"Oh. You invited her to come too?"

"Sure did." I said proudly. "I asked her to come personally."

"Well, good for you Ralph!" Cedric said congratulating me.

"It's a good thing," Bert said, snickering, "you didn't tell Mulligan I was bringing along some booze."

"Booze?" I was surprised. He was actually bringing alcohol with him for the trip!

"That's right, booze. A little concoction of my own, peanut butter vodka!" Peanut butter vodka. How typical for him. Sometimes, I wondered if Bert had been George Washington Craver in a past life.

"Bert, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Sure it is! I got a few jars of it right here!" He held them up, grinning like a loon.

"Whatever. Bert, you can have your alcohol. I'll pass it up, and I'm sure Cedric will pass it up, too. Isn't that right, Cedric?" I said looking at him.

"Most definitely, Ralph! I see no reason why we need to drink on our camping trip. I want to remember this trip, after all."

"I'm pretty certain Melissa would pass it up too, but I can't say that for sure," I admitted.

"Eh, suit yourselves." Bert shrugged.

"Well, are we all ready?" Cedric asked.

"All clear, Ralphie boy!" Bert said.

"Good then. Let's go pick Melissa up," I said. I was looking forward to seeing her.

We walked all the way to the Mulligan house. Cedric and I were carrying packs on our back, while Bert was carrying our canoe with him. I had built the canoe myself a few summers back.

I knocked on the door.

Melissa answered the door.

"Hi there, Ralph." She said. "I see you are all ready to go. I've got my things too." She said, showing off the pack she carried on her back.

"Good, good," I said. Mike came to the door.

"Ah, it's you, kid. Let me just say, I hope you all have a good time on your little outdoors adventure. But not _too _good a time, if ya know what I mean." I took it he was already suspecting I had a little bit of a crush on his daughter.

"Don't worry Mike. That won't be happening."

"Good, it had better not. If it did, I'd have to snap your head off!" He said, in a bit of an angry tone.

"Ah, come on, Dad. What makes you think something like that would happen?"

"I'm just trying to look out for you, honey," Mike said.

"Now, I suppose you all should get going before I start to blither on and on. But remember, you three," he said, his eye narrowing. "She _is _your responsibility. As I told Ralph in person, if anything happens to her, I will kill all three of you with my bare hands, and I will have no second thoughts about doing it, either!"

Cedric gulped. "Ha, ha, we promise, Mr. Mulligan, sir!"

"Good. Now, go off and have yourselves a good time." Mike slammed the door.

"Alright, guys, let's get going and hit the river!" Bert was excited.

* * *

><p>Bert and Cedric were chatting with each other as we headed towards the river.<p>

Melissa and I were also making small conversation.

"So, Ralph, you never called me back about yesterday morning."

"No, no, I didn't." I was already trying to forget about that.

"I assume you must have gotten over whatever was wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing was wrong, Melissa."

She looked worried again. I could tell she didn't believe me.

"No, Ralph, I know something had to be wrong. You wouldn't just call me for no good reason in the middle of night." She was determined to try to find out what was wrong.

"I swear, it's nothing." I did not really want to talk about this.

"Ralph, I can tell you're hiding something from me. I remember-you were worried about me."

"I was, now that you mention it," I remembered.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked me, curiously.

"You _could _say that," I admitted. That was as much as I felt like telling her right now.

"So you did have a bad dream," she said, looking a bit concerned. "If you don't mind, what happened in your dream?"

"Melissa, I do mind. I don't want to talk about it."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do mind. I am just trying to forget about it." I really was, I felt ready to hit the water.

"Well, if you want to talk about it more, I'm all ears!" she said smiling.

"I'll be sure to speak to you when I do," I replied, though I did not plan on telling her any more.

Soon we hit the edge of the river.

"Well, this is it, gang," Bert said, proudly. "Evergreen River. And we are going to go all the way downstream on this baby!"

"This should be fun," Cedric said.

"Ralph, are you ready?" Melissa said, eagerly.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I said.

"Alright gang. Here we go!"

We got the canoe into the water and we all climbed into it. Before we set off (we had tied up to a tree stump), we remembered to put our life vests on, in case of the emergency that one of us did end up going overboard or we did have an accident. That didn't seem likely, though.

"Let's go!" We untied our canoe and began paddling our way down the river.

For the first few miles or so, it was very uneventful. Bert, Melissa, and I were rowing, and Cedric was pointing out any interesting things he saw.

"Look, guys!" Cedric said, pointing out at something. "I think I can see Lassater's Café!"

"You can?" I asked. "Where?"

"Right there!" Cedric said. "Take a good look through the trees."

"I see it," Melissa said.

"I don't really see it," I said, as I really could not see it. "Are you two pulling my leg?"

"No, Ralph," Melissa laughed. "Why would we do that?"

"No reason, I suppose."

"I can't wait until we hit the rapids!" Bert shouted excitedly.

"That should be a load of fun." I replied.

We made our way downstream several miles more. Melissa and I were making small conversation. I was telling her about some of the things I knew about the outdoors.

"They say that you can always tell where you are by looking at the moss on the trees." I told her.

"Really?" She said, a little surprised. "I've heard of that."

"Yes, they say it always grows on the north side of trees. But, that's not true. It also grows on the east, west, and south side of trees too, sometimes more than on the north side. So, it's not a very good method of navigation."

"It isn't?" Melissa asked curiously. "Wow. Ralph, I never would have taken you for someone who knows a lot about the outdoors."

"I have a lot of books on the subject," I admitted proudly. "I learned a lot from them."

"Ralph, I like you, you know that?"

What?

"Erm?"

"Ralph, you're probably the nicest guy I know." She said, moving closer to me. I could tell she was trying to flirt with me. I couldn't believe out of all the people in this Forest, she liked _me_. Was it because she felt sorry for me? I didn't know.

"Oh, uh, well, I do try…"

"Well, are you two getting comfortable?" Bert laughed.

"Hey! Look, guys. I think I can see Beaver-bite Swamp!" Cedric called out.

Wait a minute.

Other than the fact that it was a little cloudy outside….this was almost exactly the same as the dream I had.

Suddenly, I remembered the whole dream again. The small conversation. The rapids. Melissa drowning. Me getting blamed for it. That whole other…mess.

It looked like my dream was starting to come true. I suddenly freaked out.

I tapped Bert on the shoulder.

"Yeah, Ralphie boy?"

"Bert. Turn around right now."

"What are you talking about? You were so eager to come along." He scoffed and went back to paddling.

"No, Bert. I mean it. Please turn around. I want out of this right now." I said, shaking.

"No way, Ralph. We're too far gone to turn back."

"I'm serious Bert. If you won't turn back, then please row to shore and let's stop right there."

Cedric looked confused.

"Ralph? Is there something wrong?"

"Yes." I replied, visibly trembling.

Melissa looked at me, concerned.

"Ralph Raccoon, what has gotten into you? You were so excited to be on this trip. We were having fun. What's gotten into you?"

"I….I…I…I have a bad feeling about what might happen if we continue on down the river any farther."

"Why?" Melissa asked. "What's the matter?" She was definitely worried about me.

"I have this feeling that if we go any farther something will happen to us and some of us or all of us may die." I sounded terrified.

"Sheesh, Ralphie boy, you're not having flashbacks to that dream you had, are ya?" Bert didn't seem to take me seriously.

Melissa was curious too. "Ralph, what _did _happen in your dream? Was it something that had to do with this trip?"

"Yes." I just answered simply.

"Ralph, are you having a nervous breakdown?" Cedric asked, concerned as well.

"I d-d-don't know." I said, still shaking.

"I want to help you, Ralph," Melissa said, putter her paw on my shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It seems like that dream I had is already starting to come true. Bert, please, stop!"

"I think you might have lost it, Ralph," he said as we continued towards the rapids.

Cedric and Melissa were trying to help me, but I could not properly respond.

Soon enough, I saw the rapids ahead. I almost jumped out of my fur.

"N-n-n-no…." I said, afraid.

"Alright, guys, are you ready for the rapids?" Bert said, excitedly.

"I don't know," Melissa quipped, still looking concerned for me.

"We can't turn back now," Bert said. "We gotta go through this whitewater section and then it's a few more miles downstream."

"Alright, Bert." Cedric sighed as he and Melissa joined Bert and started paddling.

I just sat there, hoping that we would make it through here alright.

"Uh oh!" Bert shouted out.

"What's wrong, Bert?" Cedric shouted.

"We're gonna hit that rock!"

"Oh no!" Melissa cried.

My dream was coming true…

We hit the rock and our canoe ended up tipping over. This wasn't a dream. This was reality. We had just wrecked.

Bert and Cedric quickly made it to the shore. Bert managed to save his pack, while Cedric ended up losing his.

But much to my surprise, I found myself clinging on to the rock, which was close to shore (it jutted a good ways out of the water). And Melissa had made it to shore!

I heard Bert and Cedric screaming for me.

"Ralph!" Bert screamed. "Can you hear us?"

"Hang on, Ralph!" Cedric cried. "We'll save you!"

Melissa looked the most worried of all.

"Ralllllllllphhhhhh!" She cried. "Don't worry, I'll try to help you!"

I felt relieved. But suddenly, I found myself losing strength. My senses started to fade.

I was starting to black out. So that was what my dream had meant. Melissa wasn't going to be the one to die-_I _would be the one to end up dying.

Was this how it all would end?

I found myself passing out…

**END CHAPTER EIGHT**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hooray for cliffhangers! Will Ralph survive, or will he meet his maker in the rapids? (SPOILER ALERT-Of course he doesn't die, it's his story. Why would he die in his own story? However, there WILL be an odd twist to it…) You'll find out what happens in Chapter 9. (Number Nine…Number Nine…Number Nine…sorry, forgive me, I'd just been listening to the Beatles' "Revolution 9", one hell of a weird…composition)

Ralph's dream is not actually based on any dream I've ever had (honest! My dreams are considerably more bizarre). It's actually partially based on some "creepypasta" I read on the Internet (lost episode stories). That would actually make a good Raccoons creepypasta. I do apologize if anyone finds it highly disturbing-I disturbed myself writing it. Plus, remember, it's a nightmare. A nightmare is supposed to be scary. You never heard of a _good _nightmare, did you?

And as always, read and review, and drop me a line (that means PM me) if you feel like it.


	9. Chapter 9: One Summer Dream

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Chapter 8 ended with a cliffhanger with Ralph in a life or death situation. This chapter will feature the outcome of that-with a surprise twist at the start. (Is it REALLY Ralph's funeral?)

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the Raccoons…why the hell do I still keep doing this? I'm about out of witty sayings or questions to pose to the readers by now. The only reason I keep putting this in is to ensure I don't get slapped with a lawsuit for writing this. You wouldn't want that now, would you?_

**CHAPTER NINE: One Summer Dream**

I awoke to find myself hovering over the Evergreen Graveyard. Wait a minute. The Evergreen Graveyard? What was I doing here? Why was I hovering? This didn't seem to make much sense.

I could see down below a large gathering of people standing around an open coffin. These included: Cyril Sneer, George, Nicole, Lisa, Bentley, Bert, Melissa, Cedric, my mother, my father, Mike Mulligan, and the Evergreen Church's pastor, Reverend Bell. Obviously, a funeral was going on and it was somebody we all knew. But whose funeral could it be? Who had died? Why wasn't I with them? Why was I hovering above them?

Reverend Bell opened his mouth and began to speak.

"Ladies, and gentlemen, we have all gathered here today, for the funeral of one Ralph Raccoon. A friend to some, family to others, and a pest to several others, he drowned last Friday in a tragic camping accident. He was only nineteen years old. This is the final viewing before the burial. Any last words you may have in honor of Ralph, please speak them now."

Wait a minute. This was _my _funeral. I was…dead?

Drowned in a camping accident. It seemed that I had indeed lost my life on our camping trip. I was no longer one of the living. Everyone had gathered here to remember me.

I took a look down in the coffin. Sure enough, that _was _me. I was indeed….dead. Dead as dead could possibly be. Why did I have to go so young?

George was the first to walk up to my coffin.

"Well, little brother," he started. "You were always a great guy at heart. Much better than many men I've met out there. I knew you were destined for something big in life; I just had this hunch. But now…I guess none of that will ever happen. It's such a shame you've gone to a better place now. You were so young; you had so much more to accomplish in life. I thought I'd be dead long before you were, but that isn't the case. I really wish things had turned out different…." George sighed heavily and went to go sit down. This had to be hard for him-he'd just lost me, his only sibling.

Nicole was the next to speak. "Ralph," she said. "I may not have known you ze bezt," she said, solemnly. "But you were a great guy, and a good little brother to my huzband. I thought a lot of you. I alwayz looked forward to your veesits, you were such a good playmate to my own children. Eet's so hard to believe zhat you are already gone. Ze kids are going to really miss you, Ralph." She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and sat down beside George.

The next to speak was little Lisa. "Uncle Ralph," she said, crying. "I'm gonna really miss you. You were the best uncle I could ever ask for. You told me I could do anything if I put my mind to it. When I first got a basketball, I was terrible at playing the game and I thought I would never be any good, so I almost quit the game. You told me not to give up and that if I tried hard enough, I could do it. And I can do it! I'm thankful you were there to keep me up when I was down. And now, you're gone! It's not fair," she said, sobbing heavily. "No one should die the way you did. I really will miss you. It was great knowing you while you were still alive, Uncle…" She cried as she made her way to her seat next to her mother and father.

Little Bentley had his turn next. "Uncle Walphie, is that you?" I smiled, looking down at him-I liked being called "Uncle Walphie". He spoke again. "It was so much fun playing with you when you came to my house a month ago. I guess we'll never be able to play again. I wish you would come back…" Bentley also was crying heavily as he went to sit with his family.

The next to speak was my mother and father. Surprisingly, my father was grinning like a madman. Why was he so happy? This was my funeral. Was he actually…_happy _that I had died? Had he really never loved me or cared about me?

My dad spoke up. "Well, there's one good thing to come out of this!" He sounded joyous. "Thanks to this, I got a week off from work! Thanks, son, if it hadn't been for this, I'd still be slaving away working with carpets right now!" How…typical for my father. He celebrated any opportunity he got out of work like it was a holiday. It didn't surprise me he'd be a bit excited about my own death. How insensitive of him.

My mother slapped him across the face. "ART!" she barked, angrily. "Art, that's your own son in there! You should show some respect for your son, remember all the good times you had with him!" I did laugh a bit, my mother did have to tell my father off sometimes when he was acting dumb.

My father stood there in thought, and then suddenly burst out into the most pathetic sobbing I'd ever heard anyone emit. "Oh, where is the joy in getting time off of work if I've lost my boy! He was so young! So young! He had so much left to do in his life, and he'll never get to have any of it! It's not fair, dammit! It's not fair! The saddest thing that can happen to a father is living to see the day his own son dies! No dad should go through what I'm going through, no one, no one!" He continued utterly bawling as he looked my lifeless body in the face. "Can ya hear me boy? It's not right that a kid should die when he's only started life. You were supposed to be something in life, get a good job, find a nice girl, get married, and start your own family. This wasn't supposed to happen! Are you mocking me, God? Are you? Why must you mock me? Why did you have to take my boy away to heaven so soon? What did I ever do to you?" He sobbed heavily as he walked away to find a seat. I was touched-my father really did care about me, even if he had not really shown it sometimes.

My mother then spoke up, tears in her eyes. "Oh, Ralphie," she said, as she started to sob as well. "Ralphie, my brave little boy, Ralphie…why did you have to go so soon…why? I always loved you, Ralphie, you were always my special little boy. I just knew you'd grow up to be a really good man, Ralphie…why did they have to take you so soon?" She couldn't say anymore, she was just so sad that she had to sit down and take a seat. Both my parents were utterly crushed. It looked like almost everyone was.

Next up was none other than Mike Mulligan. I wondered what he would have to say.

"Well, kid. It was nice knowing ya while you were alive. I never thought you'd be here in one of these wooden boxes so soon. Figured that newspaper dream you had would take you someplace in this crappy little world we live in. My little angel was really fond of ya, like you would never believe. Honestly, I think you would have made a damn fine son-in-law someday. A shame it'll never happen. My condolences to your family." He didn't have much to say, but it was the thought that counted, I suppose.

The next one to come up was none other than Cyril Sneer. He had brought his three pigs with him. Cyril had never been fond of neither myself nor Bert, so I was wondering what he would have to say.

"Well, raccoon. I guess you've gone to the great gig up in the sky now. I never particularly thought highly of you. I thought you and that other raccoon friend of yours were out to lead my boy astray and I tried my damnedest to keep him apart from you two, because I was afraid you would ruin him and turn him against me." I figured he wouldn't have nice words. "But…I remembered what my boy said at your high school graduation. You two were the best friends he's ever had, whether I like it or not, and that means something, I think." Cyril adjusted his cigar a bit. "He said without you two he'd never have made it through high school. And for that, I am thankful. As much of a varmint you may have been, you were one of Cedric's closest friends. That meant a lot to him. It's hard to believe you're dead when you're just a kid yourself." He sighed. "Nineteen years old. Just a kid yourself. Just starting life. I remember when I was nineteen," he said, sighing again as he was obviously remembering when he was my age. "You had your whole life ahead of you. So much to do, so much to accomplish, so much that'll never be. I think there's something wrong with a kid not even living to see his twentieth birthday. Something isn't right about it at all. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that while I never respected you at all in life, I respect you now, in death."

The oldest of the three pigs, Lloyd, spoke up to ask Cyril a question. "Say, Boss." He said.

"Yes, you three little ham sandwiches?"

"We've been thinking," he said. "It's about a time we got a raise. We've been doing so much hard work for you, we think we at least deserve a _little _raise…" How insensitive of the pigs! Asking for a raise during a funeral-did they have no souls?

"What in blue blazes are you three sausages doing asking for a raise in the middle of a kid's funeral? Do you think this _looks _like a good time to ask for a raise?"

"Uh, boss," the youngest pig, Floyd, asked. "When _is _a good time to ask for a raise?"

"You want to know the answer to that?" Cyril said, his voice becoming angry. (Then again, he sounded angry most of the time.)

"Oh, yes, boss." The three pigs spoke in unison.

"The answer is _never! _You three dirty swine will never get a raise as long as you ask for one in the middle of a funeral, of all places!" He was definitely pissed.

"Oh no!" Boyd, the middle of the three pigs, cried.

"Now get over here, you no-good pigs!"

"Run!" Lloyd screamed as he and his siblings ran from Cyril as he chased them through the graveyard.

That was rather amusing, but I admitted. It was touching to see Cyril finally give me some respect, albeit it was only after my own death.

Next to speak up was Cedric. "Gosh, Ralph," he said, looking very depressed and upset. "It feels so weird seeing you lifeless here in this coffin. You were always one of my dearest friends. You and Bert both. I'm not sure you realized it, but your friendship really meant a lot to me. A lot of kids were afraid of me because of my last name, Sneer. They had heard all the stories from their parents when I was a little aardvark and stayed well away from me. You and Bert were the only two who tried to befriend me. And it was a great friendship. We made it all the way through high school together. You two helped me get through high school, if it hadn't been for you I would have been endlessly bullied for being considered a nerd and for being a Sneer. We may not have gone to college together, but we still called each other and kept in touch. Now…it just doesn't feel right seeing you leave us so early on in life. I don't really know what to say." This had hit Cedric hard, he couldn't even think of anything more to say. He sat down as well.

The next to last person to speak was Bert. Bert looked extremely sad and I could tell this had hit him hard as well. "Ralphie boy, I guess this is goodbye forever," he said, as tears started to slowly trickle down his face. I'd rarely ever seen him cry. "We had such great times together growing up. You, me, and Cedric, we were the best of friends. Nothing could ever separate us…except….one of us dying. I always thought it wasn't fair how the other kids treated you, they treated you like you were a piece of garbage that deserved to be stomped on. You didn't deserve to be stomped on-you were a smart guy, smarter than me for sure. You were definitely going to make something of yourself; you were going to be much better off than any one of those guys who picked on you at every opportunity. Melissa really liked you, too-I imagine if you'd have lived you two would eventually have probably gotten together and lived happily ever after, just like in those old fairy tales my mom used to read to me." He was really starting to cry now. "If only we'd have listened to you when you told us to turn back when you thought something bad was going to happen. I thought you were crazy; if only I'd have known what would have happened, I would have gladly turned back. It'd mean you'd still be here with us. We could look back and laugh at how scared you were-I would much rather that than what's happened now. I feel…I feel partially responsible for all this happening. I'll never forget ya, buddy. See ya on the other side someday, Ralphie boy, I hope ya won't be too mad at me." Bert absolutely broke down and started crying his eyes out, he needed help getting to his seat.

Last and certainly not least, was Melissa. She looked like she'd been hit the hardest by all this, it was obvious she'd been crying for a long time about this. "Oh, Ralph…." She said, struggling for words. "I can't believe all this is happening. I wish this were a dream, a nightmare I was having, but it isn't. I remember when I first met you a few months ago-when you spilled your coffee all over me. I got a bit upset at first, but then I realized you didn't mean to do that. We talked for a while, I don't know what I saw, but I saw something in you I really liked. You were a nice guy, an honest man. I've had a few boyfriends in my high school days, but none of them were anything like you. I just don't know what to say-I really did like you a lot." She could hardly keep her composure together. "I thought, maybe someday, we might be together forever. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I did want to believe in it. I really did. Bert should have listened to you when you wanted to turn around, I wanted him to turn around too when I saw you starting to get scared. I tried my hardest to save you when we had…the accident, I really did. I managed to get you out of there with the help of Cedric. I tried CPR, but it was already too late. You were already gone, you'd inhaled too much water, there was nothing we could do." She absolutely started sobbing. "Oh, Ralph, I'll never forget you, I promise! I hope you'll be waiting up there for me someday…" She also needed help getting to her seat.

"And with those words in honor of Ralph," Reverend Bell said, "we may now proceed with the burial of young Ralph Raccoon."

I started crying. This could not be. I couldn't be dead. I couldn't! I was only nineteen, like everyone said, I had so much more to do in life! How could I be dead so young? How?

I dived down at my corpse, hoping that maybe my spirit would re-enter my body and I could return to life. But it didn't work-I wouldn't go back in. I just passed right through.

I cried more and looked up at the sky. "Please, somebody up there, if you can hear me," I begged, "please let me return to life! I'm not even twenty years old yet, I should not be dead at so young an age! Please, give me another chance…."

Suddenly, everything started fading. The scenery, the graveyard, my friends and family, they all started fading.

* * *

><p>I suddenly found myself in a black void and I could hear voices.<p>

"He's not breathing! C'mon, Melissa, you have to perform CPR on him, or he'll die for sure!"

"I'm trying my damnedest!" That was Bert and Melissa. What was going on?

"He's not waking up!" I heard Cedric shout. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm trying my hardest, I can't possibly try any harder!" Melissa sounded determined. Wait. Who wasn't breathing? Was it…me?

I suddenly got my answer. I found my eyes opening up slowly as I found myself coughing up a bunch of water. I must have been under the water for some time, for it was quite a considerable amount.

I realized something. I was lying on my back, looking up at the sky. I didn't know what had happened. Where was I? Wherever I was, what was I doing here?

The first thing I saw clearly was Melissa looking down at me. She looked really happy for some reason, I wasn't sure why.

She spoke. "I did it! He's awake! He's breathing!"

"Oh thank heavens!" I heard Cedric say, sounding excited as well.

"I thought we'd lost him for a moment," Bert said, sounding relieved.

"Huh…" I said, confused. "…Where am I? What am I doing here? Why are you all so happy?" I didn't understand.

"Ralph, you're alive!" Melissa shouted excitedly. She picked me up and grabbed me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a really big hug. I was confused. I thought I was dead a few moments ago…I was…alive? I wasn't sure if this was a dream or reality.

I coughed. "What do you mean, I'm alive?"

Melissa was still hugging me, she sounded overjoyed. "Ralph, I thought we'd lost you! When our canoe wrecked, all of us made it to shore except you. We called to you, but you must have lost consciousness at some point. Cedric and I tossed a life ring around you and caught you. We pulled you in."

"Huh, accident? What accident? I don't remember any accident…" I didn't know what she could be talking about.

"You don't remember?" Bert asked.

"Not particularly."

"Maybe it's better that you don't." Cedric said, chuckling. "It was very scary for all of us. We thought you were gone for sure."

I still didn't quite understand what they were talking about.

Then it hit me.

The dream I'd had a few nights before, the small talk between all of us, me freaking out and getting terrified, the accident. Me blacking out.

"Wait a minute, I think I remember now. Was I really that close to death?" I said, nervously.

"You were very close, I think," Melissa said. "If we hadn't have gotten you out when we did, you probably would have died in just another minute or so."

"We had a lot of trouble getting you breathing," Cedric said, smiling. "We were beginning to think it was already too late."

"But you're still with us, Ralphie boy!" Bert said, reaching his paw out to give me a high five. I high fived him, though I still felt a little bit groggy.

"Ralph, I'm just glad to see you're alive and you're going to be alright," Melissa said, still smiling as well. "You really scared me there for a moment. It's a good thing I know CPR!"

"You know CPR?" I said. So it had been her who had been performing CPR on me, just as I had suspected.

"I sure do! I took a course in life saving techniques when I was in high school. I learned a lot from that course. Looks like I put it to good use today!"

I chuckled. "Heh heh, you most certainly did." I was really grateful she had gone with us; otherwise, I would probably be dead. Just like that dream or vision I'd had when I was unconscious.

I wondered how long I had been unconcious. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two. But that vision, it had seemed very real, very detailed. It felt like it lasted an hour. It was all very strange, but, I couldn't think of a way to explain it.

"The important thing is you're alive, Ralphie." Bert said. "Although, I admit. It was my fault this ended up happening. I was careless going through the rapids-that's why we got wrecked. I'm really sorry, guys," Bert looked a bit ashamed of himself.

"It's okay, Bert." I said. I wasn't that mad at him, though I was a little upset he _had _almost killed me. "It's an accident, it could have happened to anyone."

"Just don't do it again!" Melissa warned Bert.

Bert nodded nervously. "Oh, I promise, I promise..."

"Good," she said.

"Well, we lost our canoe," Bert said, seeing pieces of it strewn about the shore. "But, I managed to save some of our stuff."

"That's right," Melissa said. "Bert and I saved our gear."

"I didn't," Cedric said. "Mine's lost to the river. I assume you lost yours too, Ralph?"

It was rather obvious I had indeed lost my gear as well. "Well, I don't see it on me," I said, chuckling. "I guess that means I lost mine, too!"

"Heh, no problem." Bert didn't seem to be fazed by this. "I think we can still climb Mount Vulcan. We may have lost our tents, but we can stay in the cabin on the peak. I think there's enough room for all of us up there."

"I suppose so," I said, not really thinking of any other alternative.

"Sounds good to me," Melissa replied. "I managed to save my camera. I can get some good scenery photos up there after all!"

"Okay then," I asked, "do we have enough daylight to climb the mountain? It's not too far away, but it's quite a bit of a climb. That'll take us a few hours to climb."

"I think so," Cedric said, although he wasn't extremely sure. "We might be able to scale it by dusk."

"Well," Bert said. "We better get going, if we want to get to the top before it gets dark!"

* * *

><p>Soon, we reached the foot of Mount Vulcan. It was a moderately steep peak, but it would be a fairly easy climb for all of us. I'd wondered why it was called Vulcan. Some old books I'd read had said that this mountain had once been an active volcano, but I couldn't be positively sure. It certainly would go a long way to explaining why there were hot springs at the peak. Perhaps it was dormant, which meant it would blow sky-high sometime in the future. I couldn't see that happening anytime soon, though. I would have to do some more research into this when I had the time…<p>

We were now climbing the mountain at a steady pace. Along the way, Bert decided to make some small conversation with me.

"I'm sorry about being so careless, Ralphie..." he said, sheepishly. He was ashamed of himself.

I growled at him. "It's fine Bert, but you better not do anything like that again!"

"Ah, I promise. Scout's honor." I doubted that, but I decided to just accept it.

"Very well," I replied, lowly.

"So, Ralph, Melissa saved your life. What do you think about that?"

"Well, Bert, I can say it's a good thing she came with us. If it weren't for her, I think I might be dead right now."

"Maybe, but if she wasn't here, maybe Cedric could have saved you. Remember when we were in fifth grade? That summer, Cedric went off to the Young Aardvark Society Camp and learned how to swim. He also learned some basic lifesaving techniques; I think he could have saved ya!" Bert chuckled.

"Perhaps," I said, realizing Cedric had helped too. I remember what Melissa said, she and Cedric had both gotten me out of the water. "But, you know, I'm still grateful she was there."

"Heh," Bert said, chuckling to himself again. "She's like your guardian angel, Ralph!"

Guardian angel might be going a little bit too far. "Oh, I don't know about _that…_" I said, shrugging.

"Sure she is, Ralphie boy!"

"I suppose so," I said shrugging again. "I suppose I am indebted to her."

"Heh, so you are," Bert laughed. "If I were you, I would do something really nice for Melissa to thank her for saving your tail."

"Really now, like what?"

"Gee, uh, I dunno," he said. "Maybe you should take her out to dinner or take her to a movie or something."

"Bert, that's a date."

"Eh, of course it is, so what?" He didn't seem to see what the problem was. The problem was that I didn't feel I was ready for a date. I felt I would screw it all up (just like in high school) and probably get her mad at me.

"Bert, I don't think I'm ready for that yet…"

"Sheesh, Ralphie," Bert said, shaking his head. "I've already said it, you _are _completely hopeless."

"No need to rush into things, remember?"

"I suppose not, but you'd do good to ask her out while you still have the chance. If ya don't, somebody else braver most likely will, and then, well, you'll be out of luck. You already know what that's like from all your…bad experiences in high school."

I wanted to brush this subject off, I was getting sick of Bert talking about this. He was determined to get us together at any costs, it seemed.

"Bert, I'd rather not discuss this. We're hiking, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry, I just kinda think you two would make a really good match. Say, wait a minute. I know how you can repay Melissa…"

What did he have in mind now?

"Oh really, now? What do you have in mind?"

"You know why most people climb this mountain, don't ya?" Bert said, a large smirk coming across his face.

I didn't remember right off hand.

"Not particularly, why do you ask?'

"There's hot springs around the summit, remember?"

"That's right, I do remember." Wait a minute…Bert wasn't suggesting-

"Well, you two could, ya know, go _furry-dipping…_" he said, cheekily, a big goofy grin on his face.

"_**BERT!**_" I said, getting angry at him for suggesting that. "Why do you think we would do that?"

"No reason," Bert said, still grinning goofily. "Maybe you two want to get, ya know, _comfortable_, if you know what I mean…"

I was so mad at Bert, I could have punched him right there. I resisted, but it was tough to resist the urge. Bert had quite a dirty mind sometimes.

"Bert, _you're sick!_" I said, furious at him for his comments, "What makes you think we would want to do that?" In case you didn't know, Mount Vulcan was a hot spot where lots of young couples would go to furry dip and…well…participate in the joy of procreation. That was what the cabin atop the mountain was for. It was quite likely that both Bert and myself were conceived there, but I didn't really want to find out...

"Hey, I was trying to help you," Bert said, trying to be innocent.

"Bert, I don't think she would appreciate that. I'm pretty sure she's not _that _kind of girl. _That _kind of girl always seems to be interested in you." I was right, of course.

"Oh yeah." Bert said. "Sorry, that was silly. I guess I do have a bit of a filthy mind…"

"Yes, yes you do." I said, sighing. Sometimes I couldn't understand Bert…

"That's not the kind of woman I want to get serious with Ralph, though, believe me. I guess I'll know when she comes along."

"I suppose so."

I heard Melissa calling to us. "What are you two shouting about?"

I replied, rather suspiciously, "Erm, nothing. Bert was just cracking a dirty joke."

"That Bert," Melissa said, chuckling.

"You got that right," I said.

"But seriously, Ralphie," Bert said, "I do think ya ought to do something for her for saving your hide."

"I'll see what I can think of," I replied.

I could see behind us that Melissa and Cedric were chatting about something as well. I wondered what they could be talking about.

"What do you suppose they're talking about, Bert?" I whispered.

"Probably nothing," Bert said, shrugging. "Maybe you. Who really knows?"

"You're right, I suppose…"

* * *

><p>After what seemed like a long time, we finally reached the peak of the mountain. It was quite a view from up top.<p>

"Wow-ee!" Bert said, marveling at the impressive view. "I can see the whole Forest from up here!"

"Maybe if we look hard enough," I mused, "we might be able to see the Raccoondominium."

"Look hard, Ralph," Bert instructed me. "Do you see it? I can't see it."

"On second thought, I guess you can't see it from up here. We're hidden too well in the Forest, it would seem."

Cedric and Melissa had been a ways behind us and after a minute or two they reached the top as well.

They also took the opportunity to admire the view.

"Hey, I can see my home from up here!" Cedric called to us. "Look, there's Sneer Mansion right there!"

Sure enough, there was Sneer Mansion way off in the distance.

"I might be able to see my home from up here as well," Melissa said, looking around.

"Do you see it, Melissa?" I asked her.

"No, I don't," she said. "Everything looks so small from up here."

"Like a bunch of ants?" I said.

"Exactly!" she said, laughing. "Just like a bunch of ants."

She snapped a few photographs of the scenery. "Hey guys, we should all take some photos together, don't you think?"

"I don't see why not," Cedric said.

"Sure thing!" Bert shouted.

"I suppose," I said.

We ended up taking a good number of photos on the peak. Bert took a number of extremely goofy photos (he even stood on his head for a couple!), Cedric took one pointing down at his home, and Melissa and I took a couple photos posing together.

Night had come and we'd decided to camp out at the cabin and head back the next day. None of us ended up taking a dip in the hot springs.

We'd built a fire and were all seated around it. Bert was fiddling in his pack.

"Let's see, do I still have it, do I still have it…" He then found what he was looking for. "Ah-HA! Thank goodness I saved my booze when our canoe got wrecked!"

I slapped my face with my paw. Of _course _Bert would save his peanut butter vodka. He just had to save it.

"Bert," Melissa said, surprised, "you brought…alcohol?"

"Sure did!" He said, rather proud of himself. "How'd you all like to try some of this? It's my very own creation, peanut butter vodka!"

"Peanut butter vodka…?" Melissa was confused. "Why would you mix peanut butter and vodka together?"

Cedric put his bowl of chocolate pudding down and answered her. "Oh, Bert loves peanut butter, he's always trying to make new things with it."

"He just happened to come up with the idea of mixing alcohol and peanut butter together," I added.

"Ah. I see."

"Say, Melissa, how would you like to try this?" He presented a jar of it to her.

"Eh…" she said, "I think I'll pass. I don't really have much of a taste for alcohol. Which is kind of funny, since my dad is a bartender."

"Ah, suit yourself." Bert then passed the jar to me. "What about you Ralph? You said you weren't going to drink it, care to change your mind?"

"No, thank you, Bert, I'd rather not."

Bert shrugged. "Sheesh. What about you, Cedric?" He was now holding it up to Cedric.

"Bert, I don't like alcohol at all." Cedric said.

"Well, I guess the only one getting drunk tonight is going to be me, then," Bert laughed as he opened the jar up. He took a sip.

"Ah, the rejuvenating taste of peanut butter and alcohol." He belched.

While Bert was sucking up alcohol (let's say he used to have quite a taste for the stuff), Melissa and I were engaged in conversation.

"Melissa, I know you're probably getting sick of hearing this, but thanks again for saving me. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't been there."

"Ah, think nothing of it, Ralph. It wasn't just me-Cedric helped too. Isn't that right, Cedric?"

Cedric smiled as he spoke up. "I sure did! I knew those lifesaving courses would pay off someday!"

"Thank you too, Cedric." I said, realizing I hadn't thanked him yet for helping.

"It was no problem, Ralph." He went back to eating his chocolate pudding.

"Melissa, I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to repay you for doing that for me..."

She looked a bit confused for a moment, then smiled. "You don't have to repay me, Ralph. I'm sure you would have done the same thing for me if it had been me in trouble."

I chuckled. "Unfortunately, I don't think I would have been able to help. I…well…I don't know CPR. Never took a course on it." I would have been no good help to her if she had been in my situation.

"It's okay."

"Yeah…" I sighed.

Bert was by now already pretty drunk.

"Hey guys," he said, in a rather tipsy voice. "Ya know where I'd like to go someday?"

"Where?" Melissa asked.

"I'd like to go to the seven seas of Rhye," Bert said, laughing.

"Bert," I said, shaking my head, "there are no seven seas of Rhye."

"How d'you know that," Bert said, as he hiccupped. "Isn't it in one of your books?"

"Bert, that's a song. A fictitious song. The seven seas of Rhye aren't really real."

"Nah, it has to be real. I know it! Maybe one day, Sir Malcolm Havelock will write a book about his adventures there!" Sir Malcolm Havelock was Bert's favorite author, an adventure story writer. We later found out that his stories were fictional, but they were presented as non-fiction. Imagine my considerable shock the moment I found out he _did _publish a book about his adventures in the seven seas of Rhye; that was the moment I stopped taking Havelock seriously.

I shrugged. "Sure, Bert, whatever you say."

Bert idly sang to himself, "Oh, I do like to be by the sea-side..."

Melissa laughed. "Is he always like this when he's drunk?"

"Oh, pretty much. He's a _terrible _drunk."

"I can certainly see that," Melissa said, chuckling.

We both had a good laugh, but then she became serious. "So, Ralph. You never told me what happened in that dream you said you had."

"Uh, no, I didn't."

"I'm assuming it had something to do with the canoeing trip," she said. "Was that why you were so scared before we had our accident?"

"Yes, it was. It was about the trip." I didn't really want to talk about this.

"Did you die in your dream, Ralph?" She said, looking a little concerned.

"Not quite," I said, figuring I might as well discuss it with her.

"Oh, so what happened?"

"Pretty much the same thing that happened today. The only difference was that it was you in trouble instead of me and I had to save you."

She giggled. "Well, Ralph? Did you rescue me?"

"Not quite. I missed getting you with the rope. You ended up drowning."

Melissa stopped laughing. "Oh. Then what happened?"

"Everything went absolutely crazy." I tried my best to explain it to her.

"Wow, Ralph. That was a pretty rough dream you had," she said, sympathizing with me.

"I swear, I didn't take any drugs before I went to bed," I said, realizing how much my dream sounded like a bad drug trip. I really _hadn't _done any drugs before I went to be; the furthest my experience with drugs went was the occasional joint. (Needless to say, the rumors _were_ true: Pig Floyd were even _more _interesting while high...) Bert had considerably more experience with drugs; I actually caught him tripping out on some LSD he had one time! (How he got it, I'll never know...) But that's another story...

"I believe you, Ralph." Melissa said. She then smiled, realizing something. "So then you called me because you were worried that something bad had happened to me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I did." I looked a little embarrassed. "That was really silly of me, wasn't it?"

"No, not at all," she said, blushing. "That was actually really sweet of you. No, really, it was," she said, smiling big time.

"It was?" I was a little confused. "I could have sworn you were annoyed at me calling you."

"It wasn't at a good time of the day," Melissa said, shrugging. "But still. That was really cute. You must really care about me, Ralph."

"Well, you're my friend. I would hate seeing anything bad happening to my friends."

Much to my surprise, she leaned in and kissed me on my cheek. I was glowing red like crazy and I could feel my toes curling up.

"And you're a great friend, Ralph. I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world."

"Uh, uh, uh, what did you do that for?" My mind was pretty much gone now.

"You're a good man, Ralph. I don't know if I've told you that before, but I thought you needed to hear that." Melissa smiled at me. I smiled as well.

Bert, now close to roaring drunk, shouted at us. "Hey, get a room, you two!"

Melissa laughed. "Bert! There's nothing going on here, I swear."

"Sure does look like something to me." He hiccupped again.

"It's nothing, Bert," Cedric said. "I don't think they're bothering anyone. They're not interrupting my star-gazing."

"Bah, whatever," Bert said, looking totally…wasted.

He started singing to himself.

"_Good golly, said little Miss Molly,_

_Because I'm the man on the silver mountain._

_You can keep on rockin' me baby,_

_When the levee breaks, I'll have no place to stay._"

His singing was so off-key that the three of us couldn't help but laugh a bit.

I spoke again soon.

"Seriously, Melissa, I really ought to repay you for saving me somehow."

She shrugged. "It doesn't really matter if you do or not. Really, I don't think what I did was _that _brave."

"Well, I think it feels like the right thing to do."

Melissa relented. "Okay, Ralph. Let's see what you can come up with."

I smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

Soon, Bert ended up passing out from the amount of his peanut butter vodka he'd drank (he actually had quite a low tolerance for alcohol), and he ended up sleeping outside. Cedric, Melissa, and I ended up sleeping in the cabin. There were two beds. Melissa and I…weren't exactly that comfortable yet, so we ended up sleeping in the two beds. Cedric volunteered to sleep on the floor.

"Are you sure, Cedric?" Melissa asked. "It doesn't look very comfy at all."

"Oh, I'll be fine, guys." He reassured us.

I had a little trouble falling asleep that night. I was thinking of everything that happened today. Our canoeing trip. Me almost drowning. Melissa (and Cedric too) saving my life. Our little chat by the fire up here on Mount Vulcan.

I smiled widely thinking about everything.

"Maybe I do stand a chance with her, after all," I thought to myself.

**END CHAPTER NINE**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** And that pretty much concludes the camping trip. It was a rather rough ride for Ralph, but it looks like things are looking up for him once again. He even survived a near death experience! And two ultra-bizarre dreams. But, in the next few chapters, what will become of Ralph and Melissa's budding friendship when college starts up again and Melissa asks Ralph to a Valentine's Day Dance at Lady Baden-Baden's? Find out in the upcoming chapters.

Not to mention, the next chapter will feature Ralph's birthday and Ralph's father. So keep your eyes peeled for that.

For those wondering where I get the idea for Ralph's vision while he was unconscious of his own funeral, I don't really know. This sort of just came to me while I was listening to a Grand Funk Railroad song called _Born To Die_. The song nearly totally matches the mood of the dream (it's a dark, dreary song about the loss of a close family member).

The seven seas of Rhye indeed don't exist-they are from a song by Queen. (Their first hit in their native UK, as a matter of fact).

The song Bert sings while drunk is not an actual song; rather, it's a mash up of the lyrics of several different songs. They are, in order: _Speed King _by Deep Purple (which is just a mash up itself of various '50s song lyrics), _Man On The Silver Mountain _by Rainbow, _Rock My Plimsoul _by the Jeff Beck Group (which is an adaptation of the old blues song _Rock Me Baby)_, and _When The Levee Breaks _by Led Zeppelin. All groups I believe mentioning Bert was interested at this time period earlier in the story (under different names of course).

As always, read and review!


	10. Chapter 10: Honesty Is No Excuse

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Things have really begun to look up for Ralph, however, let's see what future obstacles stand in his way. This chapter will introduce an adversary for Ralph-so be on the lookout, since he will become a significant character in the next few chapters. (Although he doesn't even have a name yet as of this chapter, as he isn't introduced fully into the next chapter. He will be a significant figure for 3 of the next 4 chapters.)

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I don't own the rights to the Raccoons, I only own the rights to characters of my own invention, except for Delilah Blackmask, she is copyright of Nicky4 and used with his permission….yeah, enough of that. So now, I'd like to take this moment to discuss my LEAST favorite thing about the Raccoons. It's not the warped timeline. It's not the fact that a few of the characters annoy me. It's the damn humans from the specials and the first season. Ranger Dan and his two children, Tommy and Julie. They did NOT fit in with this show at all. While I don't really mind their presence in the specials, by the time the Raccoons actually became a show I think they should have gotten the hint and got rid of them right away. They never even once INTERACTED with the Raccoons! The closest they came to actually interacting with them was in the Christmas Raccoons, the very first special, and all that happened there was they saw them, felt bad for them because they appeared to be homeless, and decided to give their tree back. That's as much interaction as they had. It might just be me, but I believe that if you are going to have a cartoon that features talking anthropomorphic animals and ordinary human beings alongside one another, they should meet and interact with each other. Watch the first season episode "The Runaways!" and tell me that they COULDN'T have easily made this into an episode where not only did Tommy and Julie try to run away, but they also actually MET the Raccoons. In my opinion, that would have totally justified the humans' existence. Fortunately, they got the hint that the humans did not really fit in with the rest of the show, and so, by season two, they were gone. I apologize if this sounds mean, but, good riddance, I say._

_Moving on…_

**CHAPTER TEN: Honesty Is No Excuse**

The rest of our camping trip was very uneventful. Bert woke up the next day with a massive hangover and he needed some help as we hiked our way back down the mountain. Melissa and I had to help him out since he was having trouble standing up properly. We managed to make our way back to the bottom and we soon made our way back to the Mulligan house.

We knocked on the door.

Mike answered the door.

"Hello? Oh, good, you're back. Ah, I see my little girl's safe and sound too. Good on ya, Ralph-I knew I could trust you, kid."

Bert then started to run his mouth.

"Your daughter's a heroine, Mike!" he shouted.

"Really now," Mike said, taking a puff off of the cigarette he was smoking. "How so?"

"We had a little…mishap while canoeing. Ralphie here almost drowned, but Melissa saved him! She pulled him out of the water and performed CPR on him until he started breathing again!"

"Wow," Mike said, looking a little impressed. "Is this all true?"

"It sure is," Cedric added, "though I also helped."

Melissa smiled lightly. "Oh, come on you guys, it was nothing really."

"No, no, it was really quite amazing!" Bert said, harping her praises.

"Well, what do ya know," Mike said, smiling broadly. "I'd been wondering why ya took those lifesaving courses back in high school. Didn't think ya'd ever have to use them. I guess they finally paid off."

"I suppose they did!" Melissa chuckled.

"Well, I take it you all had an interesting time." Mike asked us.

"We sure did, Mr. Mulligan!" Cedric answered.

"I'll say." I laughed. "Interesting time, indeed."

"Well, it was quite a trip, I'll say that much," Melissa said as she entered the house. She waved goodbye, "See ya later, Ralph."

"Bye, Melissa." I waved back.

We then all went back to our respective homes.

* * *

><p>Summer passed quickly and soon it was nearly the end of the summer. It was now mid-September and it was almost time to head back to college. Cedric had to leave to head back to UBC. We were sad to see him go again, but as always, he promised us that he would write to us and call us whenever he got the opportunity to do so, which was usually every weekend.<p>

As for Bert and myself, we decided that we didn't want to go back to the dorms at Evergreen University. It's not like they were a terrible place to live in, it's just that we liked our Raccoondominium better, as it had more room and we each had our own bedroom. (Bert and I didn't really like to share a bedroom, to be honest.)

Right before we had to go back to college came the date of my twentieth birthday. Bert had planned a big party for me, "With lots of girls, alcohol, and rock and roll!", as he said, but in the end, it only ended up being for a few people.

It was about 9:00 at night and I was looking through my gifts. Aunt Gertie had sent me tickets to a motorcycle rally (which was typical for her, since she was really big into motorcycles. Funny story-she once dated a member of the Hell's Angels! But that's another story). It was a nice thought, but it was too far away from the Evergreen Forest for me to attend. Plus, I wasn't really as fascinated by motorbikes as she was.

I had hoped maybe Uncle Rocky would send me something in the mail. Maybe he would forgive me for "betraying" him. Sadly, I had not gotten anything in the mail from him. As he had disowned me as his own nephew, it was quite apparent I would never be able to speak to him again unless he decided to forgive me. As such, I had no reason to expect him to send me anything in the mail. It was just wishful thinking.

Cedric had mailed me a card he'd written for me, as well as a souvenir from UBC. Everything else I'd gotten had just been cards, some money, and a few other odds and ends from my family members.

Bert was presenting me with his present for me.

"Here ya go, Ralphie boy," he said, handing me a box wrapped up with a blue ribbon.

"Hmm," I wondered. "What could it be?" I shook the box. "I can't tell what this is, Bert."

"Well, open it up! You'll never know until ya do." Bert grinned.

I unwrapped the box. It was a fishing pole, albeit it wasn't assembled.

"Ta-da!" he said, jumping up in the air. "What do you think?"

"Erm, it's nice, Bert," I said, politely. "But, it's not assembled yet."

"Oh, uh, I had to send away for it. Took me a good bit of money to pay for it, too. I had to save up for a good while to buy that. You'll have to put it together yourself. You can use it next summer!"

Well, at least he'd thought of me. "Thanks, Bert. I guess it's at least the thought that counts."

"No problem, Ralph," he beamed. "Oh wait, I forgot to give you this."

He handed me another gift-wrapped box.

"What is it this time?" I wondered aloud.

"Well, open it up and see."

I opened up…and what do you know? It was three jars of peanut butter and a jar of peanut butter soda. I should have known Bert would give me something peanut butter related for my birthday. He _always _did.

I sighed. "Peanut butter again?"

"Hey, everybody should be so lucky to get peanut butter for their birthday!" He laughed.

"…Well, as I said, I suppose it's the thought that counts."

I sighed. This wasn't a very good birthday at all. Nobody had come to visit, it was just Bert and myself. I didn't even have a cake. My parents hadn't even called me like they'd promised they would for my birthday.

"Bert, is anybody else even coming? This certainly hasn't turned out to be the big party you said it would be."

"I dunno, Ralphie, I tried asking quite a number of our old high school classmates, and most of them were either too busy or just out and out didn't want to come."

I sighed. As I expected, this would be a rather depressing birthday.

"Who else did you try to invite?"

"Well, I tried to invite Mike Mulligan, but he has work tonight, so, I don't expect him to show up."

"Anyone else?"

"Yeah, I tried to invite Cyril Sneer to show up." I laughed. He actually tried to invite Cyril Sneer to my birthday party!

"Oh boy. How did _that _turn out?"

"Not too good. His pigs answered the door and told me to get the hell out."

I laughed. "That sounds about right."

"Heh heh, I should have known that would turn out badly, Ralph." He chuckled. "Wish Cedric were here, though."

"Is Melissa coming?" I wondered. I could have sworn I told her my birthday.

"I doubt it, Ralph."

"Oh well…" I sighed.

Much to my surprise, a knock came at our door.

"Hold on, I'll get it!" I ran to the door.

I was really surprised to find myself face to face with my own father.

"Hey, sonny boy!" he said, warmly. "Happy birthday, boy, how've ya been?"

"Fine, dad," I said. "So what brings you here?"

"Oh. I was just on my way to go head to Mike's Beer Emporium for a few brews when I remembered today was your birthday. Actually, it was your mother who reminded me, heh heh." So where was my mother?

"Uh, dad, where's Mom? She didn't come with you?"

"Oh, your mother's not feeling well, boy," he said. "She said she'll try to call ya when she gets better."

"Hey, if isn't Mr. Raccoon!" Bert said.

"Bert, ol' boy!" my dad said, promptly rubbing his fist on top of Bert's head. (Sometimes, I swore my father would have rather had Bert for a son than me, they got along quite well). "Been so long since I've seen you. How've you been? Is that rocky roll or whatever they call it thingy working out for you?" My father was very behind the times, he called rock and roll "rocky roll".

"I think it will, in the long run," Bert chuckled.

"Ah good. So here you go, boy. Your mother asked me to give you this, she made it for you."

It was a card from my mother. A very simple one, but I read the words inside.

"Happy birthday, my little Ralphie. Remember that no matter what anyone says or thinks about you, I'm always behind you, no matter what-With Love, Your Mother, Millie Raccoon." I smiled. I had always been something of a mama's boy. (My father was…a lot harder to get along with.) Not to mention, she'd sent me a hundred dollars to spend on whatever I chose.

"Oh, I got ya something too, son. This is a gift that everyone can appreciate!" He pulled out a six-pack of his favorite beer, Snoup's.

"My favorite beverage-beer." He grinned. "Hope ya enjoy!"

"Beer…? But dad, I don't even like alcohol." I said. "I just don't like the taste of it."

"Son, there's a first time for everything! When I was your age, I was already going through a six-pack a day. Then again, when I was your age, I already had my wife and George in tow…" He sighed.

"I already know the story, dad," I said. He'd told me this many times before.

"Hey, it's a good story, you know."

"Sure is!" Bert said, he'd also heard the story of my father's youth before several times.

"Dad, I think you'd be better off giving this to Bert. I think he would appreciate it more than I would."

"C'mon, son, you've got to learn how to have some fun! I mean, this is probably the second best thing I ever got you! Remember your fourteenth birthday? Now that's something to last a lifetime!"

"How could I ever forget?" I could never forget that day.

* * *

><p>I remembered back to then. It was September 13, 1975. The day before my 14th birthday.<p>

I was busy typing up my summer assignment when my dad came busting in through my bedroom door carrying a box.

"Hey, how are ya doing, boy?" he said eagerly.

"Oh, I'm fine, Dad," I said nonchalantly. "I'm just busy finishing my summer paper. I think I'm doing a good job."

"Ah, well, enough of that boy. Tommorow's your birthday! Are ya excited, sonny boy?"

I smiled. "Well, of course I am! It means I'm another year older."

"Ah. Fourteen years old now. Well, son, you're at that age now..." he said, plainly.

"Age of what?" I wondered.

"Well, ya know...the age where boys like you start thinking about girls. One minute ya go from thinking girls are icky and full of God only knows what diseases, next minute you can't stop thinkin' about 'em. You know what I mean?"

"I suppose so," I said, not really interested. I admittedly was a bit of a late bloomer, I didn't really start to become interested in girls until I was almost fifteen.

"Well, I figured I'd help ya out with that boy!"

I dreaded this. "Is that what that box is for...?"

"Oh yeah! This is your birthday present, I'm giving it to ya a day early! I got these down at Willow's Store, they were behind the counter!" Uh oh...

I took a look in the box.

Sure enough, it was what I thought. A bunch of smutty magazines. Full of sleazy women in various states of undress.

"_Playcritter_?" I said. "Dad, why...?"

"Hey, boy, you're at that age! You're lucky you live in this day and age, when I was your age we didn't have these! Mr. Willow said I was a terrible parent buying these for you, but I think I'm the best damn dad there is! Every dad should be getting these for his son when they reach that age!"

I knew full well what my dad was expecting me to do with these. Bert already secretly managed to get his paws on them fairly often, and I knew what he did with them...

"Uh, Dad, I don't think I really want-" But he interrupted me.

"Sure ya do, boy! Now, I'll be out of your fur right now, I don't want to...interrupt you while you...thumb through these!" He left and shut the door behind him.

I shook my head. "My dad..."

I didn't know what to do with them, so eventually, I ended up giving them to Bert. Just like I would end up doing with the beer my dad had just given me. Needless to say, he..._definitely _appreciated it a lot more than I did.

"That was the worst birthday ever..." I sighed to myself.

* * *

><p>I was interrupted from my childhood memories when a knock came at the door.<p>

"Hello? I need some help here."

"Who could that be?" my dad said. "You didn't invite any exotic dancers over, did ya, boy?"

"Dad!" I shouted. My dad always seemed to say the most inappropriate and the most embarrassing things in public.

"Hey, c'mon, son! Can't have a party without some women!"

"Dad, please," I said, embarrassed. "I'll get it!" I shouted to the person at the door.

It was none other than Melissa. She was carrying a rather large present and a cake and having a bit of trouble carrying it.

"Happy birthday, Ralph!" She said, winking at me.

"You remembered?"

"Sure did!" she said, grinning broadly. "I need some help here. Can you take the cake?"

"Sure thing, Melissa." I took the cake from her and placed it on our table. Melissa took the present and also placed it on the table.

"Well now, son. Who's this little lady ya got here?" My dad was going to embarrass me in front of Melissa, I just knew it. That was what he was known for-embarrassing me.

"Ralph," Melissa whispered to me. "Is that your dad?"

"Yes, Melissa. That would be my dad." I cringed a bit.

"Hey, sonny boy, is this your little girlfriend Bert over here was telling me about a while ago?" Uh oh.

Melissa turned red. I did too.

"Uh, uh, girlfriend….?" I said, stuttering heavily.

Melissa giggled. "Oh no, Mr. Raccoon. Ralph and I are just friends."

"Just friends?" My dad sounded disappointed. "I thought you two were going out already."

"No, Mr. Raccoon," she said, smiling. I could hear her whisper something to herself. I couldn't be sure, but it sounded like she'd said, "maybe someday."

"Say," my dad said, rubbing his chin. "You look awfully familiar. Have I seen you around here before?"

"My name's Melissa Mulligan, sir," she replied.

"Melissa Mulligan…Mulligan…say, wait a minute. You're Mike's daughter?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Raccoon. Mike Mulligan is my father," she said, proudly.

"Ah, I thought I'd seen ya around here somewhere before! Mike told me a lot about you," he said, smiling his rather…unintelligent looking grin.

"I hear you spend a lot of time at my dad's bar," she replied.

"Oh hell yeah," my dad continued grinning, laughing to himself. "I go there any chance I can get! I was actually going to head out there soon as I gave my boy his presents. Sure hope Mike doesn't kick me out for eating too many of the pickled eggs again!" He laughed.

"Ah, so _you're _the one Dad's been saying eats too much. Well, it's nice meeting you then, Mr. Raccoon."

Then my dad noticed the cake on the table.

Instantly, he started to twiddle his fingers back and forth. "Mmm!" he said, licking his chops. "Cake!" Then he gasped. "OOH! With extra sugary frosting on top! Delightful!"

"Melissa, you made a cake for me?" I was impressed.

"I sure did!" She said, sounding pretty proud of herself. "I figured you'd probably like it. It took me almost all day to make this too. I would have gotten here much sooner if I hadn't have made it for you."

"It's really nice of you to do that," I said, smiling.

"It's no problem at all, Ralph. You'll probably like my present too."

"What is it?" I wondered.

"You'll see," she grinned.

I was about to say something, but Bert interrupted me.

"Hey! You two lovebirds getting comfortable?"

"Bert!" Melissa shouted, looking upset.

"Bert, now's not a good time," I said, annoyed.

I observed my father putting a finger in the cake and he began eating some of the frosting off of his paw. He just couldn't wait to sink his paws into that cake.

"Mmm…" he said to himself. "High in cholesterol! A delish, I say." He then picked up a piece of the cake and shoved it into his mouth whole.

"Dad!" I shouted.

My dad talked with his mouth full of cake. "What, can't a guy enjoy a free meal every now and then?"

Melissa sighed. "Is he always like this?"

"Oh yes." I sighed. "He's always been a heavy eater. That's why he's...well, up there in the weight department. I'm a little worried he'll end up with diabetes someday." That was a very realistic concern for him. Heart disease and liver failure were also highly likely in the future for him, if he didn't change his diet of fattening, sugary food and alcohol anytime soon.

"I feel sorry for him," Melissa said, shaking her head.

I simply shrugged and said to myself: "My father. The proverbial man-child." Out of my dad and his siblings, Rocky (his actual name was Roger), the eldest, had always been the practical but daring one; Gertie, the middle child, had always been the rowdy and adventurous one; and my father, the baby of the three? Well, he was definitely…the special one, to put it nicely. He had an IQ of 72. Not to mention I was pretty sure I was already more mature than he was.

My father continued to devour my cake.

"This is a damn good cake! I could eat all of this…"

Melissa shouted at him.

"Mr. Raccoon, I made that cake for Ralph! You don't need to eat all of it," she said, pleading with him to stop.

My father talked with his mouth utterly full of cake.

"Can't talk right now, busy stuffing face."

"Please, Mr. Raccoon?"

He swallowed it whole. It was a wonder he didn't choke on it.

"Oh, oh. Sorry, sorry. Guess I got a little carried away."

Bert cheered. "You really were chowing down on that thing!"

My dad laughed. "I sure can eat, can't I?"

"I'll say," I said, looking humiliated by his very embarrassing behavior.

"I'll say one thing, son," he said, grinning at me. "She can definitely make a good cake! By my book, she's definitely a keeper."

Melissa glowed red. "Oh, stop."

"That's enough, Dad…"

"No, I do mean it sonny boy. I told you to always keep your eyes open for a woman who can cook really well. Looks like you took what I said to heart," he said winking.

Melissa looked a little embarrassed. "I think that's enough, Mr. Raccoon. Ralph and I are just good friends."

"Sure, you are. I can see it perfectly. But enough, I figure I oughta be heading out soon anyways."

I just shook my head. "My dad…"

"Don't worry," Melissa whispered. "My dad embarrasses me a lot too."

"I've seen," I said lowly.

"Oh, speaking of my dad, he asked me to give this to you, Ralph." She handed me a book. "He thought you might want to read this."

I looked at the title of the book. "_The Great Whiskey Bootleggers of the 1930s and 40s._" This would be a fascinating read.

"I see," I muttered. "I guess I'll be learning a lot about the Mulligan family tree."

"I think they mention my grandfather in there," she said, "Richard Mulligan."

"I'll keep a lookout for him in here. Will you tell your dad I said thank you for giving me this?"

"Sure thing." She smiled.

"Hey, I can do that right now!" Bert said, excitedly.

"Bert, no, don't do it!" I shouted. I knew exactly what he was going to do.

"What's going on?" Melissa asked, confused.

"This isn't going to end well…"

Bert dialed the number for Mike's Beer Emporium. The gruff voice came over the telephone.

"Hello, Mike's Beer Emporium. How may I help you?"

Bert spoke up. "I'm trying to find a friend of mine, and I think he might be hanging out at this bar. His last name is Jass."

Oh no, not this.

"Uh huh. So what's his first name?"

"His first name is Hugh. Can you find him?"

Melissa gasped. "He isn't going to…?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid so."

I heard Mike answer. "Sure, wait one second. Ah, Hugh Jass? Hugh Jass? Has anybody seen a Hugh Jass around here? Anyone here want to check the bathrooms for a Hugh Jass?"

I could hear all of the alcoholics burst out into laughter.

I slapped myself in the face. Why did he have to do this…again? And why on earth could Mike not recognize his voice? He had met and spoken to Bert several times by now, he should be able to recognize him. This confused me.

I heard him get angry. He knew he'd been had, once again.

"Wait a minute. Hugh Jass…oh. It's _you _again, isn't it?"

"Sure is!" Bert emphatically replied.

"Listen to me right now, buster, the next time you try calling me, I'm gonna cut your lungs out and staple them to your forehead!"

Bert started laughing, while I heard him slam the phone down.

My father absent-mindedly said, "I really do hope Mike catches that little rascal someday."

It was clear he'd only half paid attention.

Melissa looked at Bert.

"Bert, how can you do that…?"

"It's very easy," he smiled innocently.

"Bert, I wish you'd stop doing that." I really did.

"Not while I can still a good laugh out of it." He smiled again.

"Well, I think it's about time I headed to Mike's," my dad said, heading to the door. "Sure was nice meeting your little girlfriend. See ya round, son."

"Bye, Dad. Don't get into any trouble," I said as he left.

I looked at Melissa. "I'm sorry for my Dad's behavior. That's just who he is."

Melissa just smiled at me and put her paw on my shoulder. "It's alright, Ralph. Like I said, I know how embarrassing fathers can be."

"Oh, good."

"Oh wait a minute, Ralph!" she said, remembering something. "I forgot to give you your present."

It was on the table, right where she'd put it.

"It looks pretty heavy," I said. "Wonder what it could be?"

"Well," she grinned. "Open it and find out!"

I unwrapped the rather large box.

I was rather surprised to see that Melissa had gotten me…

…a new typewriter.

"Melissa…?" I said-I was totally surprised. "How did you know that….?"

"You told me, remember?"

I vaguely remembered telling her that my old one was getting worn and the keys were starting to stick on it.

"I think so."

"I've been saving up the money from my odd jobs around the forest to buy this for you. What do you think, Ralph?"

It was a very nice gift. One of the nicest I'd ever gotten, as a matter of fact.

"It's very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Melissa."

She put her arms around me and hugged me. "It was my pleasure. I hope you've had a good birthday, Ralph."

"I have." I said, smiling.

"Ooh!" Bert said, in a teasing manner. "Looks like you two are _definitely _getting cozy!"

"Bert, that's enough," I said, not really wanting to hear it.

"Well, Ralph, I'll be seeing you around Evergreen University." She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. Once again my heart was practically doing somersaults right then and there.

Bert was snickering.

"Uh, uh, see ya there, Melissa." I said, stuttering heavily.

"Face it Ralphie," Bert said.

"Face what?"

"When are you going to stop being so shy and ask her out?"

Not this _again_…

"Uh, Bert, why are you so intent on pairing the two of us up again?"

"'Cause, well, everybody can see you two have something for each other."

I knew he was right, but I just felt too nervous to go through with it.

But I did make a vow to myself…

"Maybe someday," I said quietly.

"Better hurry," Bert said, chuckling. "I don't think she'll wait forever."

* * *

><p>Soon we were back in college again. Bert was up to his old habits and slacking a bit in his studies, again. So once again, I had to help him with his research. It's actually surprised me he's become a lot more responsible since those days.<p>

We both kept our jobs, but our schedules were cut back from a four day work week to a three day work week. Still, having a paycheck was always nice.

Melissa and I continued to hang out a lot, and we often found ourselves helping each other with our projects and assignments. But still, I was too cowardly to ask her out. I just could not do it.

Along the way, Bert picked up _yet another _girl in his long line of girlfriends.

One day after college, Bert came home from work with a young female raccoon roughly his age.

"Okay, Bert," I said, figuring I ought to know who his latest…catch was. "Who is she?"

"Ralph, meet my new girlfriend, Delilah Blackmask. I met her at Willow's Store."

Delilah waved to me. "Hello there. You must be Ralph, I think. Bert here told me about you."

"That's me." Something seemed a little…off about her. I couldn't tell exactly WHAT was off about her, but I just felt something was not right.

"Bert and me are heading off to the movies to go see that new Halloween movie," Delilah informed me. Halloween was some kind of horror slasher film that had just come out (since it was just after Halloween). I had no intentions of seeing that film, mainly because something like that would probably give me some rather vivid nightmares.

"Ah. Well, you two go off and have a good time. Bert, did you finish your report for Prof. Smedley-Smythe?" At the time, Smedley-Smythe didn't work for the museum, as it hadn't opened up yet-he taught classes at Evergreen University. Bert was enrolled in his class.

"Oops…looks like I forgot to start on it…"

"It's due this Friday, Bert." I figured I would have to help him out again.

"Eh, I think I can do it myself, Ralphie."

"Bert doesn't need your help. He can do it by himself. You don't need to help him." Delilah said. I could tell she did not particularly care for me much at all. I didn't really like her either, she did not give off a good first impression. I never knew what she'd end up causing so many years later….

"Suit yourself, Bert." I sighed. "You two go off and have a good time. I'll just stay…right here."

"See ya Ralphie," Bert said, with a cheeky grin on his face.

"Suppose I'll see you around, _Ronnie_," Delilah said. She didn't even bother to remember what my name was-even worse than some of Bert's past girlfriends.

"The name's Ralph," I replied grudgingly.

"Sure, whatever. See you around," she said as the two of them left.

I was glad to see her go, I just knew something was not right about her.

* * *

><p>Months passed. Soon came Melissa's birthday (November 25th, she was almost a full year older than me), on which I finally repaid her properly for saving my tail back at the Evergreen Rapids. I bought her a brand new camera, with some money I'd been saving up for a while (I'd originally been saving that money for a new car, but I realized I liked my bicycle better than a car, so I decided to put it to better use). Needless to say, she was rather pleased with my gift. Then came Christmas and by this time, the winter snow. Each of us got presents from one another. Then came the new year, 1982, and Bert's birthday, January 4th. Soon, it was the end of January.<p>

It was just another typical day in the Raccoondominium. Bert was downstairs practicing some heavy metal numbers that I couldn't say I really cared for downstairs. I was upstairs in my room, busy typing away on the new typewriter Melissa had gotten me for my birthday. I had to write up a few articles for Evergreen U's paper, and I was a bit behind schedule. I was in a bit of a hurry to get this done before the deadline.

I heard Bert momentarily stop his heavy metal racket, but then he quickly started up again louder than ever. Presently, there came a knock upon my bedroom door.

"Come in," I said, a bit annoyed, as I did not want to be interrupted while I was busy writing my articles.

It was none other than Melissa. I waved to her, but then quickly went back to typing away. As good as it was to see her visit, I really didn't want to be bothered right now.

"Hello, Ralph," she said, smiling. "So what are you doing?"

"Oh, ah, I'm busy typing up a few articles for the _Evergreen University Chronicle_. I'm a little bit behind schedule, heh heh."

"I always read your articles in the _Chronicle_," she said cheerfully, "and by far I think you're the best of all the writers. Much better than Steve Foxley and Nestor Divers."

"Thanks," I smiled softly, thankful for the compliment. "But, now is not a good time to talk. I really need to get these articles finished or else Terry Lynch (who was the _Chronicle_'s editor) is going to chew me out _big time_." That was certainly not something I wanted to deal with.

"Ralph, it's good to see you work so hard," Melissa responded, "but, you ought to take some time out to have some fun every now and then. You know what I mean?"

"Ah, sure, I suppose so." I said half-listening to her.

"That's why I came here," she said, a sly little smile across her face.

"Uh, what exactly do you mean?" I was confused.

"Ralph, have you heard? There's a big Valentine's Day Dance coming up soon down at the Baden-Baden Residence. Lady Baden-Baden is throwing this big occasion for the couples of Evergreen Forest." Lady Baden-Baden was a wealthy Canadian socialite, a hen, who had recently moved to the Evergreen Forest due to the atmosphere. She had once been a former successful stage actress touring throughout all of Canada and the US, but had long since retired from that life. Not to mention, she's now currently the Mayor of the Forest.

I didn't see how this concerned me, though.

"Couples dance? Ah, there's no way I could go to that." I said as I went back to typing up my article. I don't even remember what it was about, now.

"Ralph, that's why I came here."

"You came here why now?" I said, in a droning tone of voice as I wasn't really interested.

"Ralph Raccoon, I'd like to ask if you would like to be my date to the Dance." She was blushing, big time.

"Me, why me, Melissa?" I didn't see why she would want to ask me to go with her.

"I thought we could have a good time together. I couldn't think of a better guy to ask than you, Ralph."

No way was I going to a dance. The last time I went to a dance, was my senior prom, and I knew damn well how that turned out.

"I'm afraid I can't go, Melissa."

She suddenly looked confused. "Really? Why?"

"Oh, I have some really big assignments coming up for some of my classes, and I need to complete them in the next few weeks. I don't have time for a silly dance."

"Ralph…?" Melissa looked somewhat upset. "What's the matter with you? Can't you put aside your work for a little while and have some fun? You know it would be good for you…"

"I can't, those assignments make up a major portion of my grades. If I don't get them done, I'm going to fail some of my courses." I really wasn't in the mood.

"C'mon, Ralph…" she said, a pleading look on her face.

"I'm sorry. And besides…I can't dance. What's the point of going if I can't dance? I'll just make a big ass out of myself." This was true-I could not dance well…at all.

"Ah, that's no problem-I could teach you how!" Melissa sounded enthusiastic about that. "And besides, it doesn't matter how well you can dance, Ralph…what matters is that you have a good time. Something to remember…" she said, a dreamy look in her eye.

I continued typing up my article. "I'm sorry. I'm not going, Melissa."

She suddenly looked very sad. I didn't realize it at first, but I must have really hurt her feelings by telling her no.

"Ralph, you really won't go to the Dance with me…?"

I glanced back down at my article. "I'm afraid not."

The next thing I knew, I heard her raise her voice angrily at me. "Ralph Raccoon, I don't believe it! You haven't got a single romantic bone in your body, have you?"

Why was she so upset? I'd politely told her no.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't believe you, Ralph! How could you tell me no? I was really looking forward to this!" She was definitely pissed off at me.

"What did I do?" I was confused. What _had _I done?

"You know damn well what you've done, Ralph!" She was livid with anger, and she also had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Huh?"

"I'm out of here Ralph. I don't want to speak to you again!" She stormed towards my bedroom door.

"Melissa, wait! What did I do-"

"I don't want to hear it!" she shouted as she slammed my door.

"Was it something I said...?"

I suddenly felt really sick inside of myself. I was so confused.

What had I just done?

After a while, Bert came up to my room, where I was slumped over my desk, head rested right next to the typewriter. I felt really miserable with myself.

"Ralph, Melissa came here telling me she was looking for you. She was in a really good mood, and then I heard her hollering at you upstairs, and she came past me looking like she wanted to kill someone, and she was crying. Ralph…what did you do to her…?"

I just felt depressed and spoke lowly, "I don't know, Bert, I don't know…"

"I don't know, but you must have said something or done something that really upset her."

"Bert, I told you I don't know…" But I did know. I knew damn well what I had done to Melissa. She had just asked me on a date with her-and I'd been so caught up in my work that I'd rejected her without even thinking about it! She had every right to be upset.

"You hafta know, buddy, it looks like you really hurt her feelings."

I sighed. "Bert, Melissa asked me to the Valentine's Day Dance at the Baden-Baden Residence. Have you heard of it?"

Bert thought for a second, and then nodded. "Sure thing, Ralphie, I know about it. They asked me to perform the music for the dance. I have to learn a bunch of songs in a couple of weeks and get together a band really quickly so we can perform."

I thought for a minute. "You're not gonna try to bring the house down with your metal, are you Bert?"

"Haha, I wish, but that's not what they want me to perform at all. They're only gonna let me perform a couple of numbers I like. They will let me perform one of 'em that we wrote together," he smiled.

"Really? That should be very unique. I wonder what everyone'll think of it?" Bert and I had collaborated on writing songs together since we were in high school. Bert was good at coming up with choruses while I was better at writing verses.

"They'll probably like it. But most of what they want me to perform is this soft rock junk. I'd rather be burning down the house with my guitar."

"You could stand to play some lighter music every now and then," I said, chuckling a bit.

"Eh, I suppose. But, seriously, Ralphie, Melissa asked you to go to the dance with her. I know you have a little crush on her," he said, lightly chuckling to himself, "so this should have turned out well. What happened?"

I instantly became depressed again. "Bert, I told her no."

Bert was surprised. "You told her no…? Why, Ralph? I thought ya liked her."

I sighed heavily. "Bert, I was so busy being caught up with my articles and all my assignments, I didn't even hardly listen to her. I told her no without even thinking. Oh man….I really regret doing that now…"

Bert just shook his head. "Sheesh, Ralph. I think you really screwed up big time now."

I just buried my face in my paws. "Oh, gosh, I know…" I just felt like I wanted to die now.

Bert looked disappointed in me. "Well Ralph…I think you blew it again."

"I think I'm fully aware of that, Bert." He didn't need to rub it in.

"Wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't speak to you again," he said. "You _really _messed up there, pal."

"I guess I lived up to my reputation of being terrible with girls again," I said, about to cry. My God. I was absolutely pathetic! Melissa had thought I was worth the trouble of asking to go to the dance with her. And I'd basically just told her that I didn't think that she was worth my time at all. I felt like a complete bastard.

"Looks that way," Bert said, putting his paw on my shoulder. "Sorry, pal."

"What kind of man am I? The one girl interested in me, and I tell her she isn't worth the time. What is wrong with me?"

"Ralph, Ralph," Bert said. "No need to beat yourself up over it now. It's not gonna help you any."

"Well, I feel like it," I said, looking down at the floor. "I'm a no good piece of worthless nothing."

"Ralph, stop it," Bert said.

"Bert, I feel terrible for what I said. I really want to apologize to Melissa and make it up to her, but I…I…I…I just don't know what to do…"

"Ralphie, you might be able to get her back."

Suddenly my ears perked up.

"Really? How would I go about doing that?"

"Well, I think you should give her a little time to cool off. I don't think she wants to see you anymore today, for sure. Maybe you should give Melissa some time, then you can talk to her and apologize to her. I sure as hell wouldn't get my hopes up about going to the dance with her, that's for sure. But hey. You can be my drummer when I perform, no problem." I knew he was trying to help, but I didn't know if he was right.

"Bert, I appreciate your help…" I sighed, drying some tears from my eyes with a tissue. "But I don't feel like I could go out there and perform. She'd probably be there with somebody else. You know how that would make me feel." The thought was already starting to kill me.

"Well, you gotta give her time, Ralph. I'm sure she won't stay mad at you forever. Melissa's just upset that…well, that you spurned her."

I sighed. "I understand, Bert…" I figured it was the best thing I could do. I didn't really have much else of a choice.

I still felt very mopey the next day. Some of her words were ringing through my head.

"_You haven't got a single romantic bone in your body, have you?_"

Now I realized something. She _had _wanted this to be romantic. I felt so dumb for not saying yes to her. It was rather obvious she was thinking about this actually going somewhere. You know. In _that _direction.

A couple of days passed.

"I see you're feeling better now, Ralphie," Bert said, nudging me in the ribs.

"I think so." I said. "Bert, I think I'm going to try to apologize to Melissa today."

"You are? Well, good luck with that. Hope she still isn't too mad at you," Bert said, trying to encourage me.

"I'll see you soon, Bert, I have to go find her."

"Good luck, buddy."

I wandered around outside the Raccoondominium for a while, looking for something to give to her.

After a while I found something.

"Ah," I said. "Here it is. A Christmas rose." I plucked it from the snowy ground. It was pretty miraculous some plants kept growing in winter. "Maybe she'll like this." I at least felt hopeful.

I soon neared her house. Much to my surprise, she was standing there on the front doorsteps of her house.

"This is perfect," I said to myself, "I'm sure she won't be too mad at me…I hope she isn't…"

I was about to approach Melissa to speak to her when suddenly I heard the sound of a motorcycle coming.

I only knew about four or five people around the Forest crazy enough to learn to ride a motorcycle in the winter time, and I hoped it wasn't the one I thought it might be.

I immediately hid, not wanting to be seen.

Sure enough, up pulled a motorcycle.

I saw who was driving it. It was exactly who I feared it would be.

Melissa began to talk to him.

I then literally screamed inside myself.

_Oh no! _I said to myself. _Oh God no. Not him. It can't be him. She can't be interested in him. No…_

**END CHAPTER TEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **So just when it looks like Ralph is about to get into Melissa's good graces again, he finds out it looks like she's already found somebody else. Who is this mystery man? You will find out in chapter 11, where he is fully introduced as a rival of Ralph's for Melissa's affection. (And _not_ a good guy, either.)

In case you couldn't tell already, Ralph's father is rather obviously based off the lovable cartoon oaf, Homer Jay Simpson. I thought that was pretty obvious, but you never know. I mean, I even gave him one of Homer's catchphrases. (You know, "Mmm...(insert object of interest/delight here).") I hope you enjoyed his rather comic character.

For those wondering about Snoup's Beer, it actually was in the actual show: if you watch the episode "_Double Play!_", at one point during the big ball game, you can see a "SNOUPS BEER" advertisement lining the stadium walls. Guess I have a really good eye. I figured that would be Ralph's father's favorite brand of beer.

Oh yes, it's another prank call straight out of the Simpsons. The difference here is that in the show itself, this prank call backfired BIG time against Bart-there actually WAS a man there physically named Hugh Jass.

Once again, read and review.


	11. Chapter 11: Takes Two To Know

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Just when it looked like things were at last going Ralph's way, all of a sudden, they go awry again. Now it appears he has driven Melissa into the arms of a mysterious person that he knows. Time to find out more in this chapter…

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__For the eleventh time now, I do not own the Raccoons. I believe you get it by now. But perhaps the copyright police don't. So this is going to continue being posted. Rejoice?_

_Oh yeah, some rather sad news: It's come to my attention that Michael Magee, Cyril Sneer's voice actor (he also voiced Snag, if you consider growling and barking voice acting), passed away a couple of weeks ago at age 82. The original cast of this show is dropping like flies. May he rest in peace._

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Takes Two To Know**

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't believe it.

She was talking to him. I knew him all too well. I had gone to high school with him.

I overheard them talking to one another.

"So, babe, how's about you and I head on over to that big dance thing that rich lady's holding for Valentine's Day?"

"Oh, I don't know…"

"C'mon. You'll have a DAMN good time."

"Can you give me some time to decide?"

"Ah, I suppose. But you better make your mind up soon." He smiled that devilish looking grin I had hated seeing so much through all my high school days.

"Okay," Melissa said to him, smiling. "I'll definitely think about it."

"Well, I gotta hit the road," he said, leaning back on his bike. "I'll see ya real soon, doll-face, and when I do, tell me what you've decided."

"See you around," she waved to him as he sped off on his bike. He wasn't even wearing a _helmet_. What a big show-off. He was never one for safety.

I couldn't bear it. I took the winter rose, and crumpled it up and tore it up into little pieces. I wasn't going to talk to her. She'd already found somebody else-_him_. And there was no way it would end well.

I ran off without her spotting me. I didn't think she'd ever want anything to do with me again.

* * *

><p>Soon, I got back to the Raccoondominium. Bert was in there, practicing his heavy metal numbers again. It's kind of funny that now he performs these songs as straightforward poppy numbers (which I thought they always should have been), when originally he envisioned them as being heavy metal songs meant to tear up stadiums. But that's another story…<p>

Bert put his guitar down and walked up to me.

"So, Ralphie boy," Bert asked, "how'd it go? Did she forgive ya? Are you two on good terms with each other again?"

I sighed. "No, Bert."

Bert looked disappointed. "Gee, I'm sorry, pal. I guess she was more mad than we thought…"

I figured I should just come out and tell Bert the truth.

"Bert, I didn't even talk to her."

"Why not? Were you too scared to talk to Melissa?"

"No, Bert. I really wanted to. It's just, it's just, it's jus-"

Bert interrupted me. "It's just what?" I didn't want to discuss this with him, but I figured I had to.

"I think she's already interested in somebody else." It hurt to say that.

"Woah." Bert said, surprised. "Awful fast, don't you think?"

"Exactly, Bert," I said, feeling pretty depressed. "Even worse is who she's talking to."

"Who is it?" Bert was curious.

I didn't want to say his name.

"You remember him well, Bert. You and I both."

This got Bert wondering. "Is it Lenny Sutton?" I remembered Lenny Sutton all too well, especially from my prom…

"No, Bert. He moved away to Seattle, Washington, remember?" Lenny and Linda McDuffie, my old high school crush, had indeed moved to Seattle shortly after graduating. From what I know, the two of them ended up getting married.

"Oh, oh yeah. That's right. He did move away. Is it the other two guys editing that college newspaper you work for? Steve or what's his name?" It definitely wasn't them.

"Steve and Nestor, you mean," I replied. "And no, Bert it wasn't them. It was a whole lot worse than them."

"You don't mean-?"

"Yes, I do mean that. She's speaking to Arnold Layne!"

Bert gasped. The name was all too familiar to us.

"Oh no, not Arnold Layne!"

Arnold Layne was a raccoon who had been in the same grade with us. He'd moved to the Forest when I was in my tenth grade year, and became one of the people I dreaded being around the most. Arnold was a loner who happened to ride motorcycles as a hobby. He was also quite a bully and a jerk. He once dunked my head in the bathroom toilet because Bert had made fun of his name. Why was his name funny? He just so happened to share his name with the titular character of a very old song by Pig Floyd that I had found the vinyl of at the old record store when I was younger. The character of that song was a criminal who stole ladies' undergarments and dressed up in them, and ended up getting caught and locked up in jail. Bert had listened to this song with me, and instantly started teasing Arnold because of the fact that he did share his name with such a disgraceful…character. Bert could get away with that because he was pretty popular, but as a result, Arnold took out his anger on me very often. In some ways, Arnold was similar to Melissa's old high school boyfriend, Troy Malone, except he was twice as bad as Troy could ever be. Troy, to his credit, was highly conceited and cocky, but at least he let you know that was who he was. He didn't try to pretend to be something he wasn't. Arnold was cocky and conceited too, but the difference between him and Troy was that Arnold was _completely _two-faced. He often acted like a friendly guy and tried to smooth over women with his "charm" and "wit", but in reality, he was a complete asshole who threw a fit whenever things didn't go his way and had little to no respect for women at all. When the date of our senior prom came, he didn't take his girlfriend to the prom with him. He took the girl he was seeing on the side (he was definitely not faithful) with him. After prom, while Bert was busy comforting me for having such a miserable time, Arnold was trying to get a little…touchy, if you know what I mean, with his date. She didn't appreciate it and told him to stop. He got mad and promptly struck her in the face and beat her quite badly. We heard all about it at school the day we got back. Arnold was briefly investigated by the police and was expelled from our school-and as such, didn't graduate. Somehow, the police ended up not charging him. We hadn't seen much of him since then. All we knew about him was that he was continuing to participate in motorcycle competitions around the forest at the fairly new motorcycle arena Milton Midas had built. (I'd been opposed to the construction of it, as I didn't see what good it could do for the Forest, but alas, one raccoon's opinion was not enough to make a difference...) Not to mention, he didn't go to college (obviously since he didn't have a high-school diploma). Could his run-in with the law have changed him since then? I couldn't say, but it _was _possible. But highly improbable.

"Bert, I'm scared for her…"

"I don't blame you. I have a feeling Arnold might do something to her if they go to that dance together."

"Perhaps, Bert. But maybe he's changed?"

"Oh no," Bert said, shaking his head vehemently. "There's no changing somebody like him."

"I guess we'll see." But then I just felt worse than I had before. "I can't believe it. I lost her to Arnold Layne."

"That really has to hurt," Bert said, sympathizing with me.

"You really have no idea."

"Can't say that I do," Bert said. He'd never really been truly in love.

"What am I going to do now, Bert?"

"What can you do, Ralph? Fight Arnold for her? You would lose in a heartbeat."

"You're right…" I sighed. "I guess there's nothing I can do."

Then I thought to myself. There _was one _thing I could do…

* * *

><p>"<em>Yesterday, my life was in ruin<em>

_Now today, God knows what I'm doing_

_Anyways, I should be doing all right_

_Doing all right…._"

I hummed along to the song playing on the jukebox. I wish I could say I _was _"doing all right". I most certainly wasn't, though. If anything, _my _life was in ruin.

I was sitting here at Greg Knapp's bar, "The House Of Beer". Greg was Mike Mulligan's bartending rival in town. I chose to go to his bar, as if I went to Mike's, he would most likely kill me for rejecting Melissa's offer to go to the dance with her. I imagined if I went there, I'd probably leave with a couple of stab wounds through my chest. (Looking back, I doubt he would have gone to that extreme, since his threats were pretty much empty ones, but I didn't really know at the time...) I didn't really want that to happen. Mike personally hated Greg-from what I'd remembered him telling me, Greg sold his beer for much higher prices and was more popular among the social elite. Though really, the only big difference between the two bars was that Greg had a jukebox.

Greg came up to me and spoke.

"Hey, kid. Haven't seen you here before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," I sighed.

"What's the matter?" He looked a little concerned.

"Nothing, really," I sighed heavily. "What exactly can cure a broken heart, Greg?" I sure felt broken-hearted right now seeing that I was sure I'd lost Melissa forever.

"Ah. You have love problems, kid?"

"Yes, Greg."

"Well, I know what will cure that. A massive dose of alcohol. Here ya go," he said, handing me some vodka. "That'll be eight dollars for each bottle."

I had about fifty dollars on me. "Here you go, Greg." I said, in a very melancholy tone.

"Alright, enjoy your drinking binge."

I really and truthfully did not enjoy drinking alcohol at all-but right now, I figured I'd lost my chance with Melissa forever. Drinking was the only thing I could think of to do other than sitting around and moping to Bert, and I'm sure he didn't need to hear it. (He'd already heard my moping enough.) I figured it would take my mind off of her.

Soon, I had drank most of the bottle and was already beginning to feel rather tipsy. Much to my surprise, I suddenly heard a familiar voice not too far from me.

"Hey there, Art. See you're here again."

"Yeah, Mike won't let me in at his bar for some reason, so I decided I'd just drop on by here instead."

"What'll it be, Art?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. A few quick ones, some of those pickled egg dealies, and a couple hunks of good old beef jerky."

I looked over. It was none other than…my own father.

As my father got his beer and stuffed the pickled eggs into his waiting mouth, he recognized me.

"Hey, sonny boy! Fancy seeing you here. What are you doing here?"

I didn't want to talk to my dad right now. "Oh, hi dad," I said glumly.

"So son, you started drinking too? Hey, everyone's gotta start someday!" He laughed to himself.

I wasn't in the mood for this at all. "No, dad. I'm just here to get away from some problems I'm having."

"Ah, well, boy, that's the main reason why a lot of people drink. To get away from their problems. Ya know?"

Of course I knew that.

"I think so."

"Of course ya do. I'm here because I got passed over for employee of the month again!" My father worked for the J. Marvin Mills Upholstery Company. J. Marvin Mills was an owl, and something of a mysterious figure. He rarely showed his face and as thus I knew very little about him (I didn't even know what the J. stood for). The only times I'd personally met him were at the company picnics and the time my dad tried to get him to come to our house for dinner to smooth things over with him in hopes of getting a big raise. (Needless to say, it didn't go well...) All I really seemed to know was that he really seemed to have it out for my dad and was constantly trying to get him fired. There were about seven other workers there besides my Dad.

"So who did get employee of the month?"

"As if you had to ask? That damned Taliesyn again! I can't stand Taliesyn, he's such a suck-up! Always saying "as you wish, boss" and other such garbage. Just once, I'd like to win..." Gabriel Taliesyn was a hawk who was a co-worker of my dad's. He was a much harder worker, a very religious man, and always did as J. Marvin Mills told him, and even though he'd only been there for about two years, he'd won employee of the month every time since he'd been hired. My dad really resented him; I would go so far as to say he hated his guts.

"Should have figured it would be him again, right?"

"Yeah, but dammit! Why can't I win once? Just once I'd like for something to hang up on my wall that I can actually be proud of. Stupid Taliesyn."

"I guess you can't win them all," I sighed.

"Ah, so, anyways, what's your problem, kiddo? What made ya come here? Did you get beat up at college or something?"

I didn't want to discuss this with my father at all, but I figured it would probably make me feel better. Even though my dad would chide me about it for sure.

"No, dad. Nobody beat me up. It's a…a…a matter of the heart." I said, as I finished up my bottle of vodka. It tasted awful as can be, but I didn't really care.

"A matter of the heart? This have something to do with that little lady of yours?" I knew he was referring to Melissa.

"Yes, it does." I was hoping he wouldn't laugh at me or berate me.

"Did you two have an argument or something?"

"You could say that."

"Okay, tell me son. What happened between the two of you?" I couldn't believe it. We'd rarely had a serious father to son discussion before, and now, here we were having one. In a bar, of all places.

I told him all about what happened.

My dad looked like he was going to yell at me, but to my surprise, he didn't. "Ah, son," he said, shaking his head. "That wasn't a very smart thing to do, was it now?"

"No, dad. But it all happened because I was so caught up in my school work that I didn't even listen to her."

"There's your problem, boy," my dad said. "You put work ahead of everything else. I put work as the lowest priority on my list. Sure, I might be...mad that I didn't get employee of the month, but a few Stoup's and I'll forget all about it. Given the choice, I'd happily quit work and spend the rest of my life growing old with your mother and drinking beer whenever I got the opportunity. But of course, I can't: I had to work, to be able to support your mother and you. And George too, before he grew up." My dad smiled. "Seriously though, you shouldn't be that caught up in your work."

"I understand," I said to my dad.

"It's no problem though, Ralph." I was surprised. He actually said my name. That rarely ever happened. "Ralph, my boy, I'm sure you can make it up with….with…uh, what was her name again?"

"Melissa," I said.

"Oh yeah, Mike's daughter. As I was saying, I'm sure you can make it up with Melissa. Your mom and me have had our fair share of misunderstandings and arguments over the years, but we've always been able to make it up. You just gotta talk to her and apologize to her for upsetting her."

"Dad, it's not that simple." I was dreading telling him about Arnold Layne.

"Of course it's not really easy to do, Ralph, but you gotta do it. Just say what's inside your little heart, I'm sure she will understand."

"No, dad, I don't think you understand. I think she's already interested in somebody else."

"Oh. Now that's a monkey wrench right there." My father rubbed his chin, thinking.

"Yes. Do you want to know who?"

"I'll bite. Who is it?"

"Arnold Layne," I said, dejectedly.

"Arnold Layne, eh? Hmm…thinking, thinking, thinking…Isn't he that one kid who used to put your head in the toilet?"

I didn't like to be reminded of that.

"One and the same." I said.

"Isn't he the same guy who beat up his prom date?" my father asked.

"I believe so."

"Uh oh, that's no good at all, Ralph," my dad said. "So how do you know she's interested in him? Did you talk to Melissa?"

"I was going to go apologize to her and I saw the two of them talking to each other. He asked her to go to the dance with him."

"And she said yes to him?"

"I think so," I replied. I couldn't honestly remember.

"Wait a minute," I said aloud. I suddenly did remember. She'd only said she would think about it.

"She didn't say yes, she told him she'd think about it."

"Ah, see?" My dad said, optimistically. "I'm sure once she knows how much of a piece of absolute scum Arnie is, she'll forget about him in no time."

"You think so, Dad?" I said, not entirely sure.

"Sure as rain, my boy." My father grinned. It wasn't a handsome sight-he didn't take care of his teeth very well, as some of them had already rotted out.

"If you say so, Dad…"

"All you gotta do is go talk to her if you get the chance. Tell her you're really sorry about saying no straight to her face. Make sure you sound believable too, women can tell when you're really sorry or not. You also ought to tell her about that Arnie loser or whatever. Once she sees the choice between you, a fine upstanding young kid, and Arnold, the no good pathetic piece of garbage, she'll probably fall for you all over again. _Hopefully_."

"Are you sure?" I still wasn't sure.

"Damn sure, son," my dad said, slapping me on the back.

"Well, if you believe in me, Dad…" I said, aloud. "I think I can do it."

"That's my boy." He took a sip of his beer again. "Mmm…beer…"

"I'm going to do it," I said, feeling confident of myself. "I'm going to talk to her first thing tomorrow morning." I took a piece of paper and wrote it down.

"Good on you son. Wish ya luck."

"Dad, thanks. It's been such a long time since we had a good father and son talk like this." It really had.

"Yeah, I would more often, but I'm not really good with words, you know." My dad belched.

"Excuse you," I chuckled. "I know. Remember when you thought Melissa was an exotic dancer when she came over for my birthday?"

"Hah, yeah, I do!" We both had a good laugh. I didn't honestly think it was funny, it was probably the alcohol flowing through my system.

We talked for about another hour or so and really started to connect with one another.

"It's no wonder Mike wouldn't let me in his bar," my dad said, chuckling. "He's angry at you for rejecting Melissa and is taking it out on me! You really do got to patch this up like I said, I want my beer for three bucks instead of seven! But he let Henry and Pete in..." Henry Rogers, a beaver, and Peter Fagan, a rabbit, were my dad's two closest friends who he often went drinking with and did various other activities with. They also worked for J. Marvin Mills and the three of them had worked there for about the same amount of time. I knew the both of them pretty well; both of them were also married with children as well. Peter had a grown son named Derrick who was close to George's age and a grandson about Bentley's age named Danny (whom Cyril Sneer apparently befriended during a stay in hospital), while Henry had a son my age named Clancy who had gone to high school with me.

"I guess you're disappointed you didn't get to go drink with them," I said.

"Yeah, a little. No worries, though, I'll make it up by having wonderful dreams tonight of killing my boss! Heehee..." he chuckled.

Suddenly, a question came to my slightly addled mind.

"So, Dad. What am I going to do if she chooses Arnold over me?" That was a question I felt needed an answer. What if that DID happen?

"Well, then, Ralph. There's only one thing you can do. You get your ass out there and challenge him to something he's really, really good at. And you go out there and beat his ass at it. That'll definitely impress Melissa, no doubt. I had to do...something like that to win your mother over. Don't regret it, either!" My father chuckled.

"I know the story, dad…" He already told me this story many times, as I said.

Soon, I decided to go home. I felt a little bit tipsy, but I wasn't heavily drunk. My dad was much worse for wear and needed some help getting back home.

* * *

><p>The next morning, I woke up in a good mood. Bert soon took notice when he woke up.<p>

"Gee, Ralph. You seem to be in a pretty good mood. What's got into you? You were so depressed you went drinking last night. Something good happen?"

I smiled. "Oh, I had a conversation with my father there."

Bert laughed. "Really, now. That must have been awkward!" He laughed harder.

"No, Bert, we had a good conversation. Now I know what I need to do." I felt pretty confident in myself now.

"What's that?" Bert was curious.

"I need to talk things over with Melissa. I think we need to sort this whole awful mess out."

Bert raised his eyebrow. "But, Ralph, you said she was seeing Arnold Layne…"

I scoffed. "Maybe not. We'll see how this all turns out."

Bert shrugged. "Okay then, pal, good luck with that," he said, as he flipped on the TV and watched another early morning game show.

I headed over to the Mulligan house. I just really hoped that Mike wasn't home at the time, because I knew he would probably be very furious at what I said to Melissa and would probably want my blood.

It wasn't long before I reached the Mulligan household. Just my luck! Mike Mulligan wasn't home for once. I felt pretty confident in myself.

I knocked on the door.

I heard Melissa coming to the door. "Just a minute, I'm coming!"

She answered the door. Her face immediately turned glum. "Oh, hello. Ralph," she said, scowling.

"Hello, Melissa." I said, a bit nervously.

She responded flatly. "What do you want Ralph? You haven't come to upset me even more, have you?"

I replied sincerely: "No, Melissa. Actually, I came here to talk to you about that…"

Melissa sighed. "Oh. Well, come on, I suppose."

We sat down at her kitchen table.

"Alright, Ralph." Melissa said. "Now what is it you want to talk to me about?"

"Melissa," I said, sighing, "look."

"Yes?"

"I'm really sorry about what I said the other day. I was just so busy with my work-you caught me at a terrible time."

Melissa sighed. "No, Ralph, it's my fault. I shouldn't have asked you; if I'd have known you weren't interested, I would have never asked in the first place. This wouldn't have happened."

But I _did _want to go. I was most definitely interested now. But it was probably better not to discuss that.

"Look, Melissa, I'm really sorry, can you ever forgive me?"

Melissa smiled again. "Of course, Ralph. I can forgive you, I just got mad, is all. I'm not one to hold a grudge."

"So we're still friends?"

"Yes, we're still friends, Ralph."

"Well, that's good." I felt quite relieved.

Melissa laughed. "You thought I was going to be mad at you forever, didn't I?"

I chuckled too. "Maybe," I admitted, "it's just good we made up with each other, I guess."

A voice was gnawing at the back of my mind. _But that's all you'll ever be to her now. A friend. Because you refused to go to that dance with her. You're just going to have to accept this. _I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't.

I sighed.

"I should warn you," Melissa said, not taking notice. "You're lucky you caught me when you did. My father's out shopping for groceries. You might want to get out of here before he comes back."

"I understand," I laughed, a bit uneasily. "He probably wants to drink my blood out with a straw or something."

"Oh yes," Melissa said. "He said if he saw you around anywhere he'd…well…He said he'd do something…not very nice or polite."

"He's always threatening Bert whenever he prank calls him," I mused.

"My father's always had a bit of a bad temper. You definitely don't want to get on his bad side."

"I know that well. Remember when he said he'd rip my intestines out?" That was a good laugh.

"Our fathers, sometimes," Melissa chuckled.

I was about to warn her about Arnold, when presently there came a knock on the door.

"Uh oh…" I said, my tail firmly between my legs. I was sure Mike had come home and he was probably going to tear me a new one.

"I'll see who it is," Melissa said emphatically, as she rushed to the door.

I crossed my fingers. "Please, don't let this be Mike…" I said to myself. If it _was _Mike, I probably was in for some serious pain.

* * *

><p>It wasn't Mike, but it still wasn't someone I wanted to see.<p>

"Hey-a there, doll-face!" Oh God no. Not Arnold Layne again. Honestly, I think I would have preferred it being Mike.

Melissa smiled. "Oh, hello there, Arnold. Good to see you again."

"Mind if I come sit in and chat?" Arnold said in a friendly voice, though to me it sounded very forced.

"Sure thing, it's no problem."

Arnold immediately took notice of me. I wanted to hide right now. I really did not want to have to deal with him.

He exclaimed cheerfully (again, sounding rather forced), "Well, well, well. If it isn't my good ol' buddy Ralphie Raccoon!" He grabbed me, put me in a headlock, and promptly rubbed his knuckle atop my head several times. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't.

"Hey, knock it off!" I said.

"Heh, heh. Sorry, ol' buddy."

Melissa looked a little surprised. "Ralph, you know Arnold personally?"

Arnold chuckled. "Heh-heh, of course I do. Me and Ralphie here went to high school together. Isn't that right, Ralphie?" He put his paw on my shoulder.

I spoke in a grouchy tone. "Yes, yes. We went to high school together, yes."

Arnold laughed heartily. "Hah hah, we had some really good times back then, didn't we Ralphie?"

"Oh yes," I said in a sarcastic tone. "Where have _those _days gone?" All I was thinking about right now was that day he stuffed my head into the toilet. Let me just say, if you've never had your head in a toilet while it was flushing, much less never had your head put in a toilet, be glad you haven't. It's not an experience you'll enjoy at all. You'll never be able to forget it.

"Indeed, where have those days gone?" Arnold laughed. I didn't laugh, I was wringing my paws together. I wanted him to go away and never come back. He'd already made my life miserable enough in high school. Now he had to try to take my dream girl away from me. How much more pain did he want me to go through?

Melissa smiled. "Well, it's nice to see the two of you are old friends."

"You _could _say that." It was obvious my anger and jealousy were growing.

"Ralph, what's the matter?" Melissa said-she could obviously tell I was unhappy about something.

"Ah, don't mind him, angel eyes," Arnold said (I cringed hearing him say that), "Ralphie always had anger issues when he was in high school. I had to, heh-heh, keep him in line a lot along the way."

"Is that true, Ralph?"

I growled. "Yeah, yeah, it is true. Sort of."

Melissa smiled lightly. "See Ralph? Arnold's a good friend to you. I think…What are you so upset about?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." I lied. I didn't want to tell her that I was angry that Arnold was here.

Arnold spoke to Melissa. "So, baby, have you made up your mind yet? Are you coming to that dance dealio or not?"

Melissa chuckled. "Ah, Arnold, I haven't made up my mind yet. I don't know if I even want to go, honestly. It's very nice of you to offer to take me, but I just don't know if I want to go-the person I wanted to go with turned me down." I still couldn't believe I'd done that.

Arnold grinned a sly (and rather suspicious) grin. "Well, if ya don't mind, tell me when you do make up your mind. It'll be something _you'll never forget…_" What did he have planned for her? Those words scared me.

Melissa nodded. "Of course, Arnold. I'll be sure to let you know when I do."

Arnold continued grinning as he spoke to himself. "Good, good…"

I said lightly, "If you two do go together, please, Arnold, be careful with her. Don't let anything happen to her." I just knew she would go with him. I just felt it in my bones.

Melissa laughed a bit, "Haha, worried, Ralph?"

"A little, yes."

"Don't be. Arnold seems to be a pretty nice guy. I'm sure everything would go fine if I went with him. I'm just not sure I want to go."

Arnold piped up, "Yeah, c'mon Ralph. What do you take me for, anything but a gentleman? She'll be perfectly fine, no problem."

I whispered to myself, "For your sake, I sure hope so…" He didn't hear it.

Arnold then gestured to Melissa. "Melissa, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Ralph in person. Outside."

Melissa agreed. "Sure thing, Arnold."

Arnold went to the door and motioned for me to follow him.

I nervously followed him out. What could he possibly want?

* * *

><p>Arnold led me outside in front of a tree.<p>

I growled. "Alright. What do you want, Arnold?" I was a bit worried what he might do.

Much to my surprise, Arnold grabbed me by the scarf and threw me into the tree. It hurt quite a bit. Then he punched me straight in the eye, which hurt, a lot.

He then grabbed me by the scarf again and hollered right at me.

"Listen, you big baby. That girl in there? She's _my _chick. MINE. All mine. You stay the hell away from her or else!"

I gulped. "Who says? You don't own her, Arnold. It's up to her to choose! She has thoughts too, you know!"

Big mistake. Arnold back-pawed me across the face, drawing blood.

"_I says, _you little no-good snot-brain! She is going to the dance with me and there is nothing you can do about it. If I even see you trying to do anything with her, I am going to beat you _so_ badly. I won't kill you, but you _WILL _wish you were dead, that's for sure! I don't even want to see you _LOOKING _at her, much less talking to her!"

I gulped. I was now afraid for Melissa. What would Arnold try to do to her if they went to that dance together?

I knew this would be a bad question to ask in this situation, but I felt it needed to be asked.

"What are you going to do to her, Arnold?" A sense of worry was in my voice.

Arnold sneered. "Me and her? We are going to go _all the way_, baby."

I gulped again. He'd tried this before with his prom date. Now he was going to try it again on Melissa. What would happen to her? Would he beat the living daylights out of her? Would he…_rape _her? Or worse still? I wanted to do something to help her from this impending danger. But what could I do? I was no match for him. He was about five times stronger than I was and almost twice as tall. If I tried to fight him to save her from this monster, he would _surely _kill me. He would eat me for breakfast. Plus, I could never fight him. I didn't believe in physical confrontation-I believed in the power of nonviolent resistance. It sure wouldn't serve me well here, however.

Arnold laughed at me some more, and punched me again, right in the chest. "Hehheh. You _**LOVE **_her, don't you, little Ralphie!"

I said weakly, "I…I…I do, Arnold…"

Arnold punched me once more. I was in so much pain right now, it wasn't even funny.

"Well, that's GOOD, you little runt! Because I _WANT _you to see what happens! I want you to watch the whole thing! I think it'll be damned hilarious to see how much it hurts you! You have no idea how much fun it is seeing little weaklings like you crying like little babies when you get your wittle 'feelings' hurt." He was utterly mocking me right now. "You're not a man, Ralph, you know that?"

I replied faintly, "How am I not…?"

"Because every time you get upset you cry like the spoiled rotten little baby you are! REAL men don't cry, you wuss! You're pretty much nothing but a girl yourself!"

Today was _not _my day.

"And another thing, what a pansy ass job you're trying to get in. Puh! _Newspaper writer_? What a pansy ass job! Just perfect for a wussy little raccoon such as yourself. You're never going to amount to anything more than a wuss. You're going to always be pathetic, and you're always going to be alone! Guys like you don't get girls. Never have, never will. I don't know why you ever thought you had a shot with Melissa-she would NEVER want to go out with a little baby like you! You will die alone, Ralph, and that's exactly what you _deserve_. Which is a GOOD thing. The world needs less cowardly little babies like you and more strong men like me!"

Those words hurt even more than him punching me. _Considerably _more. Today had gone from being a day I felt cheerfully optimistic about, thanks to my father's words last night, to another miserably depressing day. Why did my life have to be such a depressing one?

Arnold finally let go of me. "Now get your ass out of here, you little piece of shit. You _disgust _me. And don't come near that babe again, you little freak, or I will pulverize the daylight out of you!"

"S-s-say no more." I slunk back home, feeling miserable, depressed, hopeless, and in a lot of pain.

I made my way slowly back to the Raccoondominium.

* * *

><p>Bert was practicing some of his numbers he was asked to play at the dance. I was surprised…he was playing his acoustic. He rarely ever played his acoustic. I recognized he was playing an old song by the Beetles from <em>way back <em>when I was a little kit.

He stopped playing shortly after I came in.

He gasped when he saw my blackened eye, bruises, and the dried blood on my fur.

"Oh my god, Ralph!" Bert said alarmed. "What the hell happened to you? Did Melissa beat you up? My God, how bad _did _you hurt her?"

"No, Bert…" I sighed, sadly. "Melissa didn't beat me up. I don't think she would ever do that. She wasn't mad at me at all."

"So you two made up?"

"Sort of, I suppose…" I really didn't want to talk now. I just wanted to go curl up in my bed and die right now.

"If you two made up, what the hell happened to you?"

I sighed. "Arnold Layne happened, Bert."

Bert gasped.

"Arnold Layne? What the hell was he doing over there?"

"He came over to see if she would go to the dance with him. She's undecided." I really just felt like crawling into bed right now.

"That's good, so do you still have a chance with her?" Bert sounded pretty hopeful.

"No, definitely not." I shook my head.

"Well, why not?"

"Arnold dragged me outside and beat me up for talking to her. He called me a baby and told me I would always be alone." I didn't want to cry, but tears were flowing out of my eyes anyways. I couldn't help it. This was too much for one raccoon to bear.

"Why don't you file a police report against him for assaulting you, Ralphie? You know, you can do that."

That would _not _be a good idea.

"Bert, do you know what he would probably try to do to me then?"

"He'd be locked up in jail, wouldn't he?" Bert thought this would be an easy solution to this.

"Of course he would, Bert, but think of what he might do when they let him out."

Bert thought about it and instantly cringed. Whatever he thought would happen in that situation must have been very similar to what I thought would happen.

"I see."

"Bert, that's not all. Remember what he did to his prom date?" That was a pretty stupid question, most everyone who was here remembered that very well. Melissa didn't know about it because she hadn't been in high school with us and it had presumably never reached her.

Bert grimaced. "Ugh, how can I ever forget? What he did to Susan or whatever her name was? Beat her up because she wouldn't sleep with him afterwards. What a scum bag."

"Bert, he's going to try that _again_."

Bert looked shocked.

"My goodness. Ralph, there's gotta be something you can do to help Melissa. You don't want her ending up like Susan do you?"

"I most definitely do not. It would….really hurt to see that happen to her."

"So c'mon, Ralphie boy, you gotta figure out how to stop him! Win her over so she'll go with you and you won't have to deal with Arnie." Bert was certainly thinking big. It was easy for him to say. It was a LOT easier said than done.

"Bert….there's nothing I can do. Arnold said he would pulverize me if he even saw me _looking _at her. He's dead-set on doing this. But there is nothing I can do. She's doomed to get hurt. I failed her. How can I ever help her? I've never been a fighter. I could never take him on in a fight. He would destroy me," I snapped my fingers, "like that."

Bert frowned. "Well, this isn't right. She doesn't deserve that and neither do you. There _has _to be something you can do."

I wished there was.

"Bert, I already told you, there's nothing I can do for her that I can think of. I'm not going near that dance, if I go, I'll see Melissa get hurt and I really don't want to see that. I failed her, Bert, I failed her. I really _wasn't _good enough for her."

Bert shouted, "Don't tell yourself that, Ralph. You _are _good enough for her! You'll get her back, you'll see! I'm sure you'll figure out a way to save her from that monster."

Bert believed in me a hell of a lot more than I did in myself. I sighed. "Bert, I don't think so…"

"I believe in you Ralph, you should believe in yourself too!"

I wished I could believe in myself. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.

"Bert...I give up on her...Arnold's won. There's nothing I can do. I've lost her forever and it's all my fault. She's going to get hurt big time by Arnold and there is absolutely nothing I can do. It's a hopeless situation..." I was almost as depressed as that night of my prom.

Bert tried to reassure me. "No, Ralph, don't give up on her! If you do, you're just letting Arnold win! You can't let him win, you gotta do something! You gotta stand up for your girl! I'm sure you'll think of something, you always do!"

I doubted that very much.

I sighed. "Bert, I'm just going to go to bed now…."

Bert was surprised. "But it's only five o'clock. Isn't that a little, ah, too early to go to bed?"

"I'll just go lie down for a while…"

* * *

><p>A day had gone by. I was coming home from another day at college. I still sported a nice black eye and still had some neat bruises from Arnold beating me up.<p>

I was walking past the Evergreen Lake. It was frozen ice solid and people were out on the ice playing ice hockey and ice skating. Some couples were skating together; seeing them together made me feel pretty sad inside. I felt lonely.

I saw Melissa was out skating on the ice too. I hoped she wouldn't notice me-who knew if Arnold was around the corner somewhere, waiting to pummel me some more. I didn't want to see her again, but here she was.

Then I saw her wave to me and I heard her call to me. "Hello, Ralph!" she said cheerfully. "Come on down here and skate with me! You're missing out on the fun!"

My first instinct was to run away and hide (I was sure Arnold was hiding around here somewhere waiting to give me another black eye so I could have a matching pair), but I figured that would only make her more suspicious, so I figured I'd go down and talk to her. If I saw Arnold, I would high-tail it out of there-pronto.

"Hello, Melissa," I said, very unenthusiastically.

"What's the matter, Ralph? You don't sound so happy. Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, hoping to make our conversation a short one.

"Ralph," she said, warily, "I can tell when something's wrong. No need to hide it from me." I guess I wasn't that convincing.

"Really, Melissa, it's nothing. I'm fine." I sat down underneath a snow-covered pine tree.

Melissa came up to me and sat down beside me. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me."

"I don't want to talk about it." I was scared that Arnold might be hiding in the tree and would jump down and pummel the daylights out of me.

Melissa noticed something and gasped. "Ralph! You've got a black eye. And all these bruises…" She looked concerned. "What happened to you?"

"It's really nothing. Nothing at all." I was trying to end this conversation quickly. The sooner I could get away from there without Arnold getting wind of me, the better.

Melissa shook her head. "No, there has to be an explanation to this. Please, if you don't mind, tell me what happened?" She was determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Uh, I tripped on the stairs in the Raccoondominium and hit my head." I just made that up really quickly, hoping she'd buy it.

She shot a funny look towards me. "Are you _sure,_ Ralph?" I could tell she had her doubts.

"Sure as sure can be." I said flatly.

"Oh. Say, Ralph," she asked me, "why did you leave right after Arnold came over? You could have stayed, my dad didn't get home for another hour."

I was _not _going to truthfully answer that. If she found out that Arnold had beaten me up, she would probably refuse to go to the dance with him, and he would probably snap and kill the both of us.

"Oh, I had some…personal business to attend with," I fibbed.

"What kind of business?"

"I had to help Bert work on another assignment. You know how he is," I chuckled, very uneasily. "Always procrastinating with his work." I was completely lying. Bert didn't have that big assignment I did, as he didn't even have the same class.

Melissa looked at me suspiciously. "You don't sound so sure of that."

"Really? Well, that's what happened."

"Ralph…" she asked. "Did Arnold…do something to you?"

"Arnold? Heh-heh, no, he's an old friend. Never would do anything to me at all."

"Ralph, please, I want to help you."

"You don't have to, I'm just fine." I thought I saw Arnold out of the corner of my eye (it was my mind playing tricks on me, but it was enough to scare me), and suddenly found myself in a hurry to leave. "Uh, look, Melissa. I need to get going. Bert needs me to help him with that assignment, it's a really big one. Don't want him to fail it now." I dashed out of there.

I heard her calling after me, "Ralph! Come back! I think you need help!"

It was too late, I was already gone.

* * *

><p>That night, I was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling.<p>

I was thinking about what Arnold had said. How he said he would hurt me if he caught me talking to Melissa again. How he said he was going to try to "score" after the dance. What he would probably do to her if she refused his advances.

Oh, how I wished I had just said "Yes" to her. None of this dreadful mess would be happening.

"It looks like she'll be going with him to that dance…oh man. I don't want to think about what's going to happen to her… but there's nothing I can do to stop him…what am I going to do?"

I thought really hard. Suddenly, it hit me. I remembered my father's words he'd told me at Greg's House of Beer.

"_There's only one thing you can do. You get your ass out there and challenge him to something he's really, really good at. And you go out there and beat his ass at it."_

"That's it!" I exclaimed to myself. "I've got it!"

Thinking back, it was _the _dumbest thing I'd ever thought up. But it made complete sense to me at the time. It really _was_ true-love would make you do the craziest things.

**END CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Ralph has now been presented with a challenger (and NOT a pleasant one at all) in the form of his old high school nemesis, Arnold Layne. What will he challenge Arnold to? Find out in the next chapter and see how it all turns out. (This'll be fun).

For those wondering, yes, "Arnold Layne" really _is _the name of a song by Pink Floyd (listed here as a Raccoons version of them, Pig Floyd). As a matter of fact it was actually the very first single the group ever put out in early 1967. This was when they still had their founder and original leader, Syd Barrett, with them. (Shine on, you crazy diamond!) What Ralph mentions the song being about is true-it is indeed about a crossdresser who stole women's clothing and dressed up in it, and got himself put away on the chain gang for theft. Needless to say, the song was banned by the BBC (gee, I wonder _why..._) The character was based on a real person who stole Syd Barrett's and Roger Waters' mothers' clothes from their clothes lines during their youths. He was never caught. The song goes like this, "_Oh, Arnold Layne, it's not the same. Takes two to know, two to know, two to know, two to know...Why can't you see?_" Good luck trying to find this song on Youtube...hell, good luck trying to find Pink Floyd _anything_ on Youtube right now. The copyright police are REALLY cracking down on Pink Floyd. Damn EMI. There goes that tribute to Cyril I wanted to make using "_Money_"...

The song on the jukebox at the bar is "_Doing All Right_" by Queen. It's from their first album and is one of my favorite songs by the band. (It's an odd song, going back and forth from being a piano-driven ballad to a heavy metallic monster, but the lyrics are pretty uplifting). They are written by Brian May and Timothy Staffell (the lead singer/bass player in an early lineup of Queen-Freddie Mercury replaced him) and are copyright of their respective owners. You probably wouldn't find this song on a jukebox in real life, but what the hell. I wanted to use it, so on the jukebox it is.

And I thought it would be a nice touch for Ralph to have a genuine bonding moment with his father, even if it was in a sleazy bar. I almost made that its own chapter.

Just a little warning-the chapters will get even longer from here on out. If you thought chapter 5 was long, wait until you see Chapter 12...

Nothing left for you to do this time but read and review (as always).


	12. Chapter 12: Sheer Heart Attack

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Melissa is in grave danger, what with Arnold Layne, who beat up his prom date in high school, trying to take her to the Valentine's Day Dance. It looked like there was nothing Ralph could do to save her from this madness, but then, he had an idea based on the words his father told him at the bar. What shall he do? Find out in this chapter.

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap:**__ I still do not own the rights to the Raccoons and as far as I am aware, that is NEVER going to change. Let me see if I can find some inspirational words…_

_Okay, here we go: "When will I learn? The answers to all of life's problems aren't at the bottom of a bottle, heh heh, they're on TV!" From the great philosopher Homer Simpson, from one of the very first ever episodes of the Simpsons. Granted, the first season of the Simpsons was far from the best one (It had a lot of…growing pains. But then again, name me one show that didn't). But, it still has a few highlights and some great quotes. Could I ask for any less?_

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Sheer Heart Attack**

It had dawned on me. I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I needed to challenge Arnold at something he excelled at and defeat him at it.

"And I know just what he's good at," I chuckled to myself. "Motorcycle racing."

I felt confident in myself. I knew what I had to do. I had to beat Arnold at his own game-his own natural element.

As I said, it was such a ridiculous idea, thinking back about it now, but at the time, it made absolute perfect sense.

Just before I drifted off to sleep, I whispered to myself, "Tomorrow I'm going to see if I can find any competitions he might be having and then I'm going to challenge him to one. I'll save Melissa from him."

I drifted off to sleep that night feeling a lot better with myself.

* * *

><p>Next morning was uneventful. It was a Saturday and I woke up close to noon. For once, Bert was already up and he was already practicing his guitar. Actually, he woke me up playing that racket, which he always seemed to do on the weekends.<p>

I crawled downstairs to have myself some breakfast. A little breakfast cereal would do. It was a good thing we had some corn flakes-otherwise I'd have had to eat Bert's "Peanut Butter Sugary Crisp". He was the one usually buying the cereal.

I was lightly humming to myself as I fixed my bowl of cereal. I felt in a pretty good mood today. Bert noticed I'd woken up and put down his guitar.

"Hey, good to see you're up there, Ralphie boy." He laughed. "I was beginning to think you weren't gonna get up."

"I blame it on your heavy metal," I said simply.

Bert scowled. "What's wrong with my music? Is there really anything wrong with it?"

I shrugged. "Technically and artistically, no, I just think it's too loud."

Bert glared at me. "Well, better that then the stuff they want me to perform at the dance!" I could tell he wasn't going to enjoy having to play soft rock.

"Hey, you asked if you could do the music. You should have expected that." He really should have. If he didn't, then he should have never signed on to do the music.

"Well, wait 'till you see the list of songs they want me to perform. I got it around here somewhere, let me go look for it…" While I finished my breakfast, Bert started rooting around the living room, tossing stuff all over the place.

I sighed. Bert always had to be the messy one, and it was usually my job to clean up after him. It was a good thing he never threw any wild parties in our Raccoondominium (he always went to other peoples' parties, though)-it would have taken ages to clean up his mess. Our rooms showed it, too-mine was neat and organized, while Bert's was more…discombobulated.

At last he found what he was looking for. "Ah-HA! Here it is," he shouted, as he pulled a piece of paper out of the couch cushions and marched towards the table.

"Is that your…set list?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, "now take a good look at this. Tell me how ridiculous this is."

"Alright, let me see."

"Here ya go." Bert handed me the paper.

I looked through the paper. As expected, the Beetles and King dominated the list (there were about 25 songs, and there were about four apiece from the two of them), but there was also some Moody Newts, Elton Brawn, and even…

"Bert, they have you playing a song by the Thankful Dead." The Thankful Dead were an old rock group around since we were kits. Their obsessed fans were called "Dead-heads" and they would follow the group on the road everywhere they went. I was really surprised at the people who were fans of them-Cyril Sneer was actually a fan of them and tried to get them to sign to "Sneer Records" in the mid-'70s! But that's another story. I thought they were alright, but not really fitting for a dance since as far as I know, they didn't have any real love songs.

"Oh yeah. I hate the Thankful Dead, that music is too damned hippy-dippy for me, if you know what I mean." Bert never really cared for psychedelic music much at all.

"And they've got you playing…" I laughed. Lady Baden-Baden actually wanted him to play _that _song. Either she knew very little about popular love songs, or someone had just picked a bunch of songs at random.

"Oh yes," he cringed. "_My Ding-A-Ling_. Woodchuck Berry's only number one hit. And it was that sellout garbage. I can't believe that just before he disappeared off the face of the world, he sold out."

Bert and I both remembered this song very well; it came out when we were kids. It most definitely was a complete and utter sellout-it sounded nothing like his classic repertoire Bert loved when he was a kid. Not to mention it was a song full of some naughty double entendres…

"Maybe someone suggested it as a joke," I mused.

"Gee, I sure hope so," Bert said lowly. "Nobody with good taste would ask me to perform that."

"I understand, but Bert, you have to perform what they said you could perform or that you had to perform."

"I know…" Bert moaned.

He then laughed.

"Seriously, I'd love to just be able to burst in and play '_Stairway To Heaven_' right there. That'd show everybody!"

Of course Bert would want to do that. Bert had said that that particular Steel Airship song was the greatest song anyone had written in the history of ever, and I know he would want to bust out and perform it right up there on stage in front of a crowd of people. That would be just like him.

"I'm sure everyone would appreciate that, Bert…" I said, in a rather sarcastic tone.

"Hey, c'mon now. It really is only the _greatest _song anyone's ever written!" Bert had seen Steel Airship live in 1975 when they came to Vancouver, and he saw them play that particular song live. He had gone to that concert with a friend and his older brother. Needless to say, he was hooked for life and no sooner had he come back then he went right down to the local record store and bought every album they had out to date. He would play their music _loud _as can be and more than once his father yelled at him to "stop playing that demon music", which he, of course, ignored. He literally _wore _out their debut album (from '68, I believe?) from playing it so much and he had me trying to learn half the songs off that album on drums. Needless to say, he was very saddened when they broke up in our first year of college when their drummer literally _drank_ himself to death.

"If you say so, Bert." I said trying to humor him. To be frankly honest, I had _very_ little interest in that group. I couldn't really understand how Bert could have such interest in them. Sure, the Airship had been _huge _(and that was an understatement-every album seemed to go straight to number one on the charts when they were released) when Bert and I were growing up, and they made big news every time they came to our local area, but to me they were just another loud and annoying heavy metal group. But Bert, he basically would have _gladly _traded places with Jimmy Crane and Robert Elephant. Bert tried so hard to get me into them by having me sit down and listen to that debut album. Needless to say, I could never find myself appreciating a band with lyrics such as "_I have a bird that whistles, and I have birds that sing. I have a bird that whistles and I have birds that sing. I have a bird, it won't do nothing. Oh, ah, buy a diamond ring!_" (a personal favorite of Bert's), the rather sexist "_Been dazed and confused for so long it's not true. Wanted a woman, never bargained for you. Sweet little baby, let them say what they will. Will your tongue wag so much when I send you the bill?_", and, by far the worst of all, Bert's favorite from that album, "_Well, they call me the hunter. That's my name! They call me the hunter. That's how I got my fame! Ain't no need to hide. Ain't no need to run. 'Cause I got you...in the sights...of my...GUNNNNNN!_" Poets these guys were _not_.

Bert was sighing, obviously reminiscing about his experience at that concert. "You should have been there, Ralph. It was something to see, I tell you!" Bert had tried to get me to go with him to see the Airship live (Cedric would have no part of it), but I declined. It wasn't something I regretted, either.

"I'm sure it was." I said, not really interested in the slightest at what he was saying. I was already looking forward to challenging Arnold and figuring out a way to do it. Saving Melissa was much more important than some silly heavy metal group.

"Oh, you should have seen it, Ralphie, when Jimmy Crane was playing that double-necked guitar, and when he pulled out that violin bow…" I wasn't even paying attention to him.

"Sure, whatever you say."

* * *

><p>Some time passed and it was now the afternoon. Bert was off presumably playing in the snow or something or other. I was busy looking through some papers I had to see if Arnold Layne had any upcoming motorcycle competitions.<p>

"Hmm…" I said as I studied the papers. "Nothing so far. I'm sure I'll find something in here if I look hard enough…"

But every paper I was looking through listed his past competitions. They had already happened.

"Dammit," I said, getting frustrated. "I guess he doesn't have any upcoming competitions…"

Then at last I found it.

"Ah-HA!" I said to myself. "Here it is. A local one on one competition between Arnold Layne and Keith Tippett at Milton Midas' Motorcycle Arena Extraordinaire. Four days from today. CANCELLED…due to Keith having suffered an injury."

This was perfect. I had my opportunity to challenge Arnold to what he was best at-and finally prove myself to Melissa once and for all. This would work out perfectly.

All I had to was call Keith Tippett up and ask him if I could take his place in this competition. It didn't matter to me that I had never actually drove a motorcycle before, all my experience on two wheels was with a bicycle. I had an opportunity and I was _not _about to pass it up.

I pulled out our phone book and began thumbing through it, looking for Tippett's number. It took a while, but I finally found it.

"Here it is," I said, proudly, to myself. "Keith Allen Tippett. Now to call him up…"

I rushed downstairs excitedly and dialed up the number from the phone book. I waited for Keith to answer.

The phone rang several times.

Then it picked up.

"Hello, who is this?" I was surprised, Keith sounded nothing like I expected him to. I expected to sound rough and burly like Arnold; instead, he had a nasally and stuffy, almost weak sounding voice.

"Mr. Tippett?" I asked.

"Yeah, that would be me," he replied.

"Mr. Tippett, my name is Ralph Raccoon."

I heard him grunt and say, "Eh, that's great but why exactly do you got my number?"

I replied confidentally, "Mr. Tippett, sir, I read the little paper that said your competition with Arnold Layne was cancelled due to you being injured."

Keith sighed. "Oh yeah. Shame really-he utterly humiliated me last month and I was challenging him to a rematch. Unfortunately I went out riding in the snow and I slipped on some ice and crashed. Now I've got a broken leg. I'm in no shape to even attempt to challenge him."

I grinned broadly as I spoke, "Well, Mr. Tippett, I've seen this paper and I have decided I'd like to take your place in this contest."

Keith sounded pleased. "Ah, really now? I didn't expect anyone to call up asking to take my place, that's why I cancelled it. But that's great, uh, what did you say your name was again?"

"Ralph, sir." I answered.

"Oh yeah. This is great, Ralph. Really great. I'll have to go to the arena and tell 'em the competition's on again. Why don't ya drop by my place tomorrow afternoon and we can start practicing."

"I'll be there pronto, sir," I replied.

"I live near that Lassater's Café. Can't miss it. Meet me there at my garage." I knew this place, I'd been past there before. Keith had been the guy with all the motorcycles.

"Alright, Mr. Tippett, see you there tomorrow."

"Sure thing, see ya." Keith hung up the phone.

I put the phone down as well. I grinned. Everything was all set up. I felt confident I could beat Arnold Layne at his own game. Winner would get to take Melissa to the dance.

I went back upstairs and happily hummed along to the oldies station on the radio as I was typing up some assignments for my classes.

I was interrupted by Bert coming in. He walked upstairs and entered my bedroom.

"Ah, figured I'd find you up here, Ralphie boy," he chuckled. "Should have known you'd be up here doing college work instead of having fun playing in the snow outside. You missed it, I got into a great big snowball fight!"

"That's terrific, Bert." I said, smiling as I continued typing up my assignments. I didn't really pay any attention to him.

"Gee, Ralph, you seem to be in a pretty good mood today." Bert seemed pretty curious as to why.

"So?" I said, shrugging as I continued to type away. "I can't be in a good mood?"

"I'm not saying that," he said plainly, "I'm just saying it's kinda odd that you seem really happy today. I mean, you've been really depressed the whole past week, I think. Why the change in mood?"

I grinned. "Oh, nothing Bert." I didn't want to let him know about this motorcycle competition until the last possible moment (I didn't want him or anyone else to try to stop me). "It's just, life is short. I've realized I have to enjoy it while I can."

Bert looked suspicious. "Are you sure that's it?"

"Sure as sure can be." I said as I went back to my work.

"C'mon Ralph, you're not telling me something…"

I figured I'd _half _tell him the truth.

"Alright, I give. I figured out how to win Melissa over from Arnold Layne."

Bert grinned. "Ah, I knew you'd think of something, Ralphie boy! So what are ya gonna do?" He seemed insistent on knowing.

I figure I'd better keep that a secret, since Bert _did _have a habit of running his mouth too much. If I told him, there was no doubt he'd tell everyone else. "Well, that's a secret," I said quietly.

"Well, you can share it with me. C'mon, pal, what are you gonna do to win your girl back?"

"It wouldn't be a secret if I told you. You'll see…"

"Ah, I wanna know!" Bert was disappointed.

"You'll find out soon enough, trust me on that…"

Bert slunk off to go watch some TV. As he left, though, I heard him mutter to himself, "I'm gonna find out what Ralph has got planned, one way or another…"

* * *

><p>The next day, Bert was again out having fun in the snow. As soon as I was sure he was out of sight, I crept out the door and headed off to Keith Tippett's home.<p>

It wasn't long before I found the place-there were a few motorcycles in the driveway.

I knocked on Keith's door.

I heard his nasally voice call out, "Just a minute there!"

Slowly the door opened. There before me stood a wolverine, whom I guessed was in his early-to-mid 30s, somewhere close to George's age. He had his right leg wrapped up in a cast (I remember he'd told me he'd broken it in a crash) and he was hobbling on crutches.

"So, you must be Ralph." Keith said, as he gingerly reached out to shake my paw.

"That would be me, sir," I eagerly replied.

"Well, do come in." He invited me into his home and we sat down on the couch.

"So, kid, you want to take my place in that competition at the Arena?"

"Milton Midas' motorcycle arena? Absolutely." I replied. Milton Midas, at that time, was the joint operator of the indoor motorcycle arena, which contained a winding, twisting, clay racetrack inside. Although he almost never oversaw operations, it had his name on it and he was the owner, but not the promoter. (The arena no longer stands today, though, it was torn down about five years ago because Midas sold it and no one wanted to purchase it from him. Turned out, it was all part of a big scam.)

"Alright kid, come out to my garage, I'll meet ya there in a minute." He slowly hobbled onto his crutches.

"Yes, sir." I made my way to his garage. There were all sorts of motorcycles in there-a bunch of Pawley-Davidson racing motorcycles. Some old vintage ones as well as more recent models.

Keith slowly hobbled into the garage. "So, this is my vintage collection. Whaddaya think?"

I looked over at the motorcycles. My Aunt Gertie had quite an impressive collection them as well-quite a bit larger, actually. But this was still nice.

"Very impressive, Mr. Tippett. So which one am I gonna ride?"

Keith coughed and then spoke. "Well, kid, I figured I'd give ya my very best-my 1980 Pawley XL750." It was quite a sporty looking model.

"That's quite a nice bike, Mr. Tippett…"

"Yeah, it's my best. I'm proud of this baby!" I could tell he was-he had good reason to be.

I noticed he also had an Indy Car in his garage, a bright yellow one numbered #58.

"You have an Indy Car?" I asked. "Where did you get one of those?"

"Oh-hoh, that's not just any Indy Car," Keith said, laughing. "That's only Eldon Rasmussen's 1975 Indy 500 car!"

I was surprised. "_The _Eldon Rasmussen?"

"Yes, one and the same," Keith replied. Eldon Rasmussen, a groundhog, was at that time the most recent driver to represent our nation at the Indy 500. Not only that, he actually was from the Evergreen Forest himself-he'd actually gone to Evergreen Elementary with Cyril Sneer in the early 1940s! He had competed at Indy a few times in the 1970s, albiet with not very much success. But the impressive thing about him was that he'd actually built all of his cars himself from the ground up. Rasmussen was definitely a hard-working man; as such he probably deserved more success then he actually ended up getting. Cedric, Bert, and I had pulled for him when we were younger-well, you sort of _had _to pull for someone from your local area, didn't you? He'd recently retired and had come back to the Forest where he tended to his garage and worked as a part fabricator. The Forest considered Eldon one of their finest residents. A bit of a funny story-Bert managed to get in an interview with him a couple years ago about his racing days for the _Standard_. Not to mention this past year Eldon came to speak to Bentley's class offering any kids who were interested summer jobs working at his garage. But that's another story...

"Wow, that's quite impressive, Mr. Tippett. I never would have guessed you knew a race car driver." I had never personally been as big a fan of motorsports as Bert had, but I had to admit, it would be quite an honor meeting a real Indy 500 racer in the flesh.

"Eldon's an old family friend. I wish he'd have done better than he ended up doing at Indy, he worked his ass off just to get there. It's a shame his best finish was...ah...thirteenth, I believe. I wanted to become an Indy Car driver, too, it was my childhood dream. I've driven motorcycles for nearly twenty-five years, but I always wanted to drive at Indy. So, I actually competed in sprint cars for a while. But I wasn't any good, I always finished at the back of the pack. It turned out I was better on two wheels than on four. So now I just race motorcycles. It's what I'm good at. But...my true childhood dream will go unfulfilled..."

I felt a little bad for Keith. He'd never gotten the opportunity to live his dream; many people never did.

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Mr. Tippett."

"Ah, it's no problem." He then changed the subject. "So, anyways, how much riding experience do ya got? Five years? Ten years?"

I suddenly realized I had never actually driven a motorcycle before. Not once in my life. I had rode in Aunt Gertie's Old Bessie more than a few times in my life, but I had only ridden in the sidecar. Never had I actually taken the handles of one.

"I…I don't have any riding experience, sir…" I said meekly. _That _would definitely not please Keith one bit. He was probably expecting someone with several years' worth of experience.

"WHAT?" He said, aghast. "No experience…none? Not at all? Never?" He was indeed taken aback.

"Well, I have rode in a sidecar before…" I admitted, nervously.

"Well, that doesn't count!" Keith was furious. "May I ask, what the hell are you doing offering to take my place then? No way in hell can I let some kid who's never drove one of these babies before out there, you'll get your ass killed and I'll get ridiculed for allowing such a thing to happen! Explain yourself right now, Buster."

I replied confidently (I didn't want to appear to be nervous), "I may not have any riding experience, Mr. Tippett, but there is a good reason I want to take your place in this competition."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" He was frowning.

"I have a bone to pick with Arnold Layne."

Keith suddenly grinned. "Ah, I see…So **YOU **have something against him too. Nearly everyone in this Forest does, too. I really can't stand that smug faced bastard. He's already a three time local champion, and he bested me for the crown last month. I can't stand him, he's always bragging. You know," Keith now tried to imitate Arnold's voice, "'I'm Arnold Layne! I'm the greatest there's ever been! Nobody can ever beat me, because I'm the best!' Gets on my nerves all the time." I did chuckle at his impersonation of Arnold.

"I went to high school with him, Mr. Tippett, and he made my life a living hell all the way through it," I told him.

"He humiliated me last month, so I challenged him back so I could beat his ass into the dust once and for all. Then I broke my leg."

"Sorry about that, Mr. Tippett," I said sympathetically.

"Ah, no problem Ralph. So what did Arnold do to you?"

"He's trying to take a girl I really like to the big Valentine's Dance at Lady Baden-Baden's place," I replied.

"Ah, now that _is _a damned good reason to want to challenge him. That asshole's trying to make a move on your girl?"

"Indeed, sir. I can't just let that happen."

"Well, I fully understand. I heard what he did to his date at his high school prom, you got a lot of good reason to be worried about her."

"So, what do you think, Mr. Tippett? I want to be the guy that takes your place in this competition. I'll do anything to save Melissa from him. This is the best thing I can think of."

"Well, Ralph, are you really willing to learn? It's only three days you would have to practice."

"Absolutely!" I said emphatically.

"Very well, you got the job, kid." Keith shook my paw.

"Now," he said to me, looking me straight in the face, "we only got three days, but with practice, I think I can make you into a championship-level racer."

"You really think so?" I was impressed. That would be spectacular if he could do that.

"Sure I do. You see, I've always secretly wanted to train somebody from scratch, and now I have that opportunity." Keith grinned.

"I guess you got what you wanted," I chuckled.

"Yeah," he said, smirking. "Plus, I think it'd be damned funny if Layne lost to a rookie rider with three days' experience to him. That would show his bragging ass something. It'd open up his eyes _big time. _Oh man, he'd never live it down."

"We can do this," I said.

"I think so," Keith said. "Now let me get my wheelchair and call up my girl Shirley so we can get down to that arena to practice."

Soon enough, Keith's girlfriend Shirley (a red wolf) dropped by and took us down to the motorcycle arena.

It was rather difficult at first (the course had a few jumps on it, and as thus, I almost crashed several times), but after a couple of hours, I thought I was starting to get the hang of it.

"There ya go!" Keith called out to me as I stopped. "I think we're starting to make some progress with you. You seem to be starting to get the hang of it. I think with two more days of practice, we'll have ya ready to beat Arnold's ass!"

Shirley spoke to me, "Ralph, you sure are an honorable guy trying to save your crush from Arnold."

Words like that meant volumes to me. "Thanks, Shirley. I sure hope I can beat him…"

Keith slapped me on the back. "Hope you can beat him? You'll do better than that, you'll beat him so bad he'll never show his face around here again!"

* * *

><p>It was soon time to leave and Keith and Shirley headed back home while I made my way back to the Raccoondominium. When I got back, Bert was waiting there for me.<p>

"There ya are!" Bert was obviously worried. He grabbed me and bear hugged me.

"Ah, no need to be so excited, Bert! I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine!"

Bert grinned. "Sorry, Ralphie, I was just wondering where the hell you'd gone off to! I was getting ready to call the Evergreen Police to look for ya! I was expecting you to be upstairs working on that big assignment. So where've you been?"

"Oh, uh," I lied, "I was just…I was just out taking a rousing stroll! Yeah. That's right, I was just taking a stroll around the forest. Nice to get some fresh air, you know."

Bert sniffed. "Huh, that's funny. Ralph, you smell like…like…like grease. You sure you were out taking a walk?"

"Positive," I said, not confidently, as Bert quickly noticed that.

"You don't _sound _sure…"

"Really, Bert, it was nothing. Can't I just go out and take a walk?"

Bert relented. "I suppose, but you ought to tell me about it first or next time you might come home to the cops!"

We both chuckled. "Will do, Bert."

I went upstairs and continued working on my big assignment. But presently, there came a phone call.

I hollered down at Bert, "Bert! Can you get that?"

He hollered back at me, "Sure thing, buddy!"

I heard him talking for a while and then he called to me.

"Hey, Ralph! It's Cedric! He says he wants you to talk to him!"

I stopped typing and walked downstairs.

"Here ya go, pal," Bert said, handing the phone to me.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hi, Ralph!" Cedric said. He usually called us once a week.

"Hello, Cedric. So what have you been up to at UBC?"

"Oh, not much. I'm still doing well in my studies, accounting is a breeze! It's a good thing I have a lot of practice with my pop!" He chuckled to himself. "So anyways, I heard you and Melissa had a bit of a falling out. Did you two make up?"

"Kind of," I said. "Though I'm sure Bert told you about Arnold Layne…" I cringed.

"Oh yes," Cedric said, unenthusiastically-it was clear he had some bad memories of Arnold too. "I'm really sorry to hear about that."

I decided I'd tell Cedric about my grand plan to win Melissa over. Bert was out of earshot, and I trusted that Cedric could keep a secret.

"I've got a plan to win her over and get her to go with me to that dance, though," I said, laughing to myself.

Cedric sounded interested. "You have? What's that, Ralph?"

I said somewhat quietly, "I'm challenging Arnold to a motorcycle competition at Milton Midas' Motorcycle Arena Extraordinaire. The winner gets to take Melissa to the dance. I can't wait to beat him at his own game!" I was eager to show him up, I didn't care how, I was just ready to finally show up Arnold.

Cedric seemed surprised. "Ralph, I don't think it's a good idea…"

"Why not, Cedric?"

"Ralph, you've never driven a motorcycle. Arnold's an ace at it! What if he demolishes you? What if you get wrecked? You know Arnold doesn't like to play fair…"

I remembered, Arnold always _had _been a bit of a cheater. "I practiced today with my new riding coach, Keith Tippett. I've only got two more days left to practice, but I think I might just be able to learn enough to take him down!"

Cedric still sounded concerned. "Ralph, I hope you do well, but I don't think this was the smartest thing you've ever done. You could have just worked something out with Melissa, she's pretty nice, I think she would understand."

"Cedric, that's not an option! Arnold said he was going to pulverize me if I tried talking to her."

"Well, Ralph, I hope it all turns out well, and I wish you the best of luck." It was nice he was encouraging me, but it was clear he didn't like the idea one bit.

"Bert doesn't know about this, does he?" he asked.

"No, I'm trying to keep this a secret," I admitted.

"Ralph, you need to tell him. I think everybody needs to know about this ahead of time."

He was probably right, but I didn't want Bert to know yet.

"I'll tell him when I'm ready, Cedric. I don't want him to know about it just yet."

Cedric was thinking more rationally than I was, in retrospect. "Ralph…you need to tell him. Do I have to tell him?"

"No!" I did not want Cedric to tell him about the motorcycle contest, I'd rather tell Bert myself. "No, don't tell him, Cedric."

"Well, alright Ralph…"

"Thanks, Cedric."

"No problem…" he said, not too happily. "Ralph, you ought to let Melissa know about this. I'm not sure she would like having two guys fighting over her to take her to a dance. You really need to talk to her about this."

I couldn't tell her that in person. "Cedric, I can't let her know, it's a secret!"

"Well, alright…" Cedric sighed.

"I gotta go, Cedric. Hear from you again soon?"

"Sure thing…" Cedric said lowly.

"Bye then."

"Bye."

I called for Bert. "Here, you can talk to Cedric again!"

"Alright, pal!" Bert winked as he took the phone again.

I went back upstairs and went back to working on my report. I knew I could trust Cedric not to tell anyone.

…Or not. Soon enough, Bert came rushing upstairs and threw my bedroom door open.

"Ralph, Ralph! Is what Cedric tells me true?" He was quite excited.

Oh no. Cedric _had _told Bert about the motorcycle competition. He must have figured I wasn't going to tell Bert myself, so he apparently decided to tell him the story instead.

I groaned and slapped myself in the face. "Yes, Bert…" I didn't want to talk right now.

Bert was still excited. "Wow-eeeee!" He was amazed. "I don't know what to say, Ralphie! That's quite a plan you got there!" He slapped me on the back, I winced.

"I suppose so." I suddenly wasn't so excited about this. Everybody would now surely find out about this and I would probably end up looking completely ridiculous.

"I'm sure she'll be impressed!" He grinned mischievously.

"Yeah. Bert. I'm sure she will be…" I didn't really know what to say.

"Uh, but wait a minute Ralphie boy," Bert said, suddenly confused. "You've never driven a motorcycle have you?"

"No," I said solemnly. "But Keith Tippett is coaching me and with luck, I'll learn enough to be able to take on Arnold and beat him."

"In only three days?" Bert was quite impressed. "He must be a damned good coach then!"

"I sure hope so," I sighed. "If I don't, there's nothing I can do for Melissa. Arnold'll take her to the dance, and God knows what'll happen to her then…"

"Well, I believe in ya buddy!" Bert gave me a thumbs-up. "You go out there and you show Arnold what-for, and then you take your girl off to that dance and live happily ever after. C'mon, Ralph, I know you can do it!"

As much as I was embarrassed that Bert was probably going to let everybody else know about this competition, it was nice I had his support on this. "Thanks," I said quietly to him.

"Hey, no problem Ralphie. I'll be there this Wednesday afternoon to see ya take him on one-on-one. It is this Wednesday, isn't it?"

"Correct, it's this Wednesday." I was nervous now, not sure I'd made a good decision at all.

"Wish ya luck, pal!" Bert winked as he went back downstairs.

* * *

><p>The next day after I had gone to practice and come back (which was after my classes), I ended up getting a number of phone calls. The first was from Mike Mulligan.<p>

"Hello?" I asked the gruff voice on the phone. Mike was likely still pissed about me turning down Melissa's offer to go to the dance with her, so I expected his words would not be too kind.

"Hey, kid, it's your old 'friend' Mike."

"What do you want, Mike?"

"I heard about that little motorcycle competition you're having with that Arnold Layne guy, bub." He sounded grouchy.

"So? What about it?" I was worried what he would have to say.

"Well, I know ya rejected my little angel's offer to go to that big dance whatchamajigger with her. Shame on you, kid. Shame. On. You. How could you do that to her? Have you no heart?"

I figured he would say something like that. "I'm really sorry Mike…" I hoped he would listen to me.

He didn't. "Not good enough, kid. Lemme just say this though, between you and Layne, you're the less despicable of the two, so, I guess I hope you win." That was…encouraging?

"Gee, uh, thanks, Mike."

"Eh, don't mention it. But you're not taking my daughter to that dance, you hear me? You are not going to take her anywhere near that dance, you turned her down once. By my book, you don't deserve a second chance with her. You had a chance and you blew it, you got me?"

I felt saddened. Mike wasn't really going to forgive me for being so insensitive. "I understand."

"See ya later, bub!" Mike said as he slammed up the phone.

Shortly afterwards, I got another phone call.

"Hello there?" I asked.

"Hey, sonny boy!" Oh boy, it was my father. This would be fun.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Hey, boy, I heard about that little motorcycle dealie you're having with the Layne boy!" It figured Bert had already let almost everybody know about it. Word had already reached my parents.

"Yeah, it's this Wednesday, Dad."

"Heh-heh. So you finally took your old man's advice, eh?" He laughed heartily.

"I suppose I did!" I really had. My dad had told me to go out there and beat Arnold man-to-man, and that was exactly what I was going to do the day after tomorrow.

"Hey, atta boy Ralphie! Atta boy!" He seemed quite proud. "You're gonna do great, son. You're gonna win and get that little lady you have the hots for once and for all! This is gonna be quite a sight to see! I knew you would make me proud someday, boy."

That was at least fairly encouraging. "I'll try my best, Dad."

"That's my boy!" My dad was practically gushing about me already. "I can't wait to head down to that arena. You know what I heard?"

"What did you hear?" What could my dad have possibly heard about?

"I heard they have these little cocktail wieners down there that go for seven bucks or so! Can't wait to get my greedy little paws on 'em! Mmm…cocktail wieners…" I could hear him drooling on the other end of the line. Of course my father would be most excited about the food the arena had.

"I'm sure they taste good." I said, trying to humor him.

"Oh, I bet they do. Good grief, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it…well, I'll let ya go there boy. Don't want to get you all worked up for your big race when you go out there and beat some tail!"

I chuckled. "See ya there, Dad." I said as we both hung up the phone.

Maybe I really _could _do this. Maybe I really could win this big race and prove myself good enough for Melissa once and for all. I had Bert's support, Mike's…erm…half-support, and my father's support.

But then I thought about the little things that could go horribly wrong. What if Arnold cheated and crashed me out of the race? What if I got badly hurt out there? What if I lost to Arnold head to head? How would I be able to live that down? Worst of all…what if Melissa wasn't impressed at all? What if all I did was scare her away for good? How would I be able to live with myself then?

"Oh boy," I said, shaking my head as I buried it into my paws. "What a fine mess I've gotten myself into…"

* * *

><p>Soon Wednesday afternoon came and it was the day of the big race. Arnold and I were both on the starting line at the arena, it was almost time for the start. Within ten minutes, we'd be racing around this twisting, winding, indoor course. It had fourteen turns and had at least three jumps on it.<p>

Keith Tippett was talking to me as we both got ready. The both of us already had our helmets strapped on and were ready and raring to go.

Keith whispered to me from his wheelchair, "Well, kid. This is it. I've taught you all I can in three days' time. I really do hope it's enough for you to bust Layne's tail out there-I want to see him get humiliated!"

I chuckled as I laughed to him. "Well, we'll see. I'll do the best that I can."

"That's all ya can do," Keith said as he popped me on the back. "Good luck to you, Ralph. You're gonna need it with _him_."

"I understand you loud and clear."

"It's almost time for them to introduce the two of you, I better head to the sidelines. I'm counting on you."

"Thanks, Keith," I said as I waved to him as he rolled off the track to the side.

Soon the announcers of the event spoke. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen of all ages, to the motorcycle competition of the ages! All for the chance to take one lucky young lady to a big dance for Valentine's Day! Calling this event today, I'm Dick Ermine." Dick Ermine was a local aspiring broadcaster who frequently commentated on local sporting events. It wasn't too surprising to find out he would be announcing this event.

"And alongside me today is my partner, the one and only Keith Stackson!" I was aghast. _The_ Keith Stackson was co-announcing this event? Stackson, a moose, was a legend of the commentating world, he had been a long, long time commentator of college football (longer than I'd been alive, I believe), and numerous other sports-I remembered him calling the Super Bowl and at least one Indy 500. What in the world was he doing here? How did Milton Midas manage to afford him?

Sure enough, the distinctively recognizable voice of Stackson came over the PA system. "Thanks, Dick, and I'd like to introduce the crowd to our two competitors. On the left, from the Evergreen Forest, a three-time local champion at this very arena, a thirty-six time winner in competitions here, an all-around star when it comes to the sport of motorcycle racing, Arnold Layne! Give it up everybody for Arnold Layne." Arnold bowed to the crowd as about half of the maybe 300 or so spectators cheered while the other half booed him. I looked to the crowd at this moment. I could see many familiar faces. Bert was there, both of my parents were there, my dad's friends Henry and Peter were there, a few of my high school classmates and a few of our college associates were there, Mike Mulligan was there (a frown planted upon his face), and I could even see Melissa. She looked concerned about something, I wondered what.

Keith then spoke again over the PA, "And on the right, also from the Evergreen Forest, a rookie rider with absolutely no experience whatsoever in this sport save for three days of practice, trying to overthrow Arnold, the young Ralph Raccoon! Give it up for Ralph Raccoon, folks!" I heard all of my friends cheer, and I could actually hear what they were saying.

Bert was jumping in the air. "Go Ralph! We're rooting for you, buddy!" It was nice to have his encouragement.

My father was stuffing cocktail wieners into his face (as would be expected) as he shouted with a full mouth, "Go son! Remember, if you don't win, we're disowning ya!"

My mother slapped him, causing him to spit out some of the wieners. "HEY!" I heard him shout.

My mother called down to me. "Don't listen to him, Ralphie! You know your father's only kidding. We both love you no matter what and we wish you the best of luck at this. But please, do be careful!"

My father then remarked, "Who said I was kidding?"

I heard Melissa calling out to me, her voice sounding the utmost concerned. "Rallllpphhhhh! Can you hear me?" I could hear her, but she most likely wouldn't be able to hear me, so there was no use in answering her. I just waved.

She shouted, a bit of fear to her voice, "Ralph, please don't do this! We can work something out, Ralph, I don't want you to get hurt!"

She obviously was afraid something would happen to me. It was as I feared. She didn't want this to happen. I would have backed out right then and there, and apologized to her for this whole bloody mess, were it not for Arnold speaking to me.

"Oh boy, you little wuss," he laughed evilly. "You've made the _biggest _mistake of your life, bub! You dared to challenge me in my natural element! Boy, are _you _in for the ass whooping of a lifetime-on the track and off! I'm gonna enjoy this," he chuckled in a very nasty tone. Those words were all it took for me to convince myself I _had _to go through with this. There was no way I would back down now.

I cracked at him, "Oh, we'll see about that, _pal_." There was a heavy tinge of sarcasm to my voice. "Don't get your hopes so high, _buddy_, you never know when you'll fall."

"You're doing this all for her? Never have I seen a guy go to such lengths all for a girl. Very honorable of you, Ralph, I must admit. It's too bad your lack of skill here won't serve you well! She'll see how pathetic you _really _are when I run your ass into the dust!"

"Wait and see," I said snickering to myself.

The starter stood by the side, holding out the green flag. "Are you two ready?" he asked.

The both of us answered, "You bet your life."

"Alright then. Three…two…one…GO!" as he waved the green flag. Arnold got started faster than I did and he jumped me at the start, leaving me behind already. This might not turn out so well…

"And they're OFF!" I heard Dick shout over the PA system. "Looks like Arnold is off to a great start, Ralph is going to have to motor hard to catch up to him! Arnold always tries to get the jump on competitors, it's his trademark!" Figured as much.

We soon completed the first of the twenty-five laps that would make up this race. Arnold was already considerably out in front. If he kept this pace up, there would be no way I would ever catch him, barring him making a mistake or him crashing out.

Soon seven laps were complete.

"And seven laps are down now, that's eighteen to go," Stackson announced. "Arnold Layne has built up a sizable lead over Ralph Raccoon, and unless something happens it looks like Arnold may have this thing in the bag already." That was _not _good news at all. I was going to lose and look bad and pathetic. Melissa would be very upset.

Then it happened.

Up ahead, Arnold failed to take one of the corners well at all and almost crashed. He managed to keep control of his bike, but during the time he fought to keep from falling, I managed to catch up to him.

Arnold was aghast. "What the, there's no way you're supposed to be catching me! I can't lose this race to a wuss like you!"

I laughed, "I'll show you what a wuss can do," as I managed to pass him. It was a good thing he didn't crash-that was not how I wanted to win. I wanted to beat him fair and square on the track.

"Look at this, Keith!" Dick announced excitedly. "Ralph has managed to pass Arnold, taking advantage of Arnold's mistake in corner number five! What an upset this could be! The rookie with virtually no experience might beat the established competitor! Have you ever seen anything like this, Keith?"

Keith responded to him: "Not in a good number of years, Dick."

The laps continued to click away. Arnold was having some kinds of problems with his bike, and he was going considerably slower than me. I was actually way out in front of him now. There were less than five laps to go.

Arnold was within sight of me again as I was actually coming close to lapping him. If I lapped him, it would be over for him for sure. I would have this thing won. We passed the starter as he gave me a signal indicating just two laps were left. Arnold was grunting as he was struggling with his bike, it seemed apparent he was starting to realize he might actually lose and was getting frustrated.

Soon, we reached the starter again as he pulled out the white flag.

Dick announced excitedly, "And there it is ladies and gentlemen, the white flag is out, one more lap to go for Ralph Raccoon! What a story, what an upset! This rookie without any experience is going to triumph over the local champion! All he has to do is get around him and lap him, and it's all over!"

Keith announced, "We'll see if he can handle the last lap, Arnold is not going to make it easy for Ralph to lap him."

I smiled broadly. I was so proud of myself-I was actually going to beat Arnold! The look on his face when he lost would be a priceless memory, that's for sure.

I could hear Keith Tippett cheering for me from the sidelines, "Atta boy, Ralph! Atta boy! You got him, baby, you got him!"

I could also hear my father and Bert cheering it up in the stands.

"Ralph! You did it! You did it!" Bert was already celebrating.

My father was presumably talking to other people proudly. "See him down there! That's my boy! Dammit, I'm proud of him! Goddammit, that's my boy!"

We were halfway through the lap and I was pulling alongside Arnold. Arnold shouted angrily. "NO! This can't be. How can I lose? Lose to you of all people? At my own game? Unacceptable! This should not be!"

I laughed. "Can't handle losing, Arnold?" This would be a moment to remember for all of my life.

Arnold growled. "No, but can you handle…THIS!"

Suddenly, Arnold let go of one of the handles and shoved me. I suddenly found myself losing balance.

Arnold had cheated. He hadn't had a problem with his bike. He'd been going slow on purpose, just waiting for me to catch up to him so he could do this.

"WOOOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHHHH!" I shouted as my bike suddenly caught a rut and flipped over violently. The crowd gasped as I went flying through the air.

"Oh my goodness!" Dick shouted. "Ralph Raccoon has crashed! Ralph Raccoon has crashed! This is gonna hurt!"

I went flying through the air and hit one of the tires hard. I almost got knocked out by the impact. My helmet had come off, it must not have been strapped on well. I could already feel a sharp pain in my paw and I knew I had bumped my head pretty hard.

"Ohhhhhhhh…." I said. I just realized. I'd lost.

"Do you think he's okay, Keith?" I heard Dick ask aloud over the PA.

"I don't know Dick, but what I do know was that that was a rather nasty accident," I heard Keith say solemnly over the PA. "Let's just hope he's okay and that he's not been hurt too badly. I've seen my share of serious injuries in my time, it's always something you don't want to see. But they happen; it's a part of sports."

Arnold laughed as he roared around me again. "Haha, loser!" He cheered as he took the checkered flag, while I just lay there, clutching my paw. I thought I might have broken my wrist.

"And the winner, ladies and gentlemen, is Arnold Layne!" The audience booed him resoundingly, and some even threw their trash over the wall at him. It seemed clear the announcers hadn't seen him cheat, but a good number of the crowd had.

"Haha!" I heard Arnold laugh, not caring about the large number of jeers he received. "As always, I'm number one! The best that's ever been and ever will be! I am the champion!" I heard him starting to hum King's "We Are The Champions." Which coincidentally was playing throughout the arena.

"Oh, my wrist…" I groaned. My worst fears had come true. I had lost, Arnold had cheated, and I had gotten hurt doing this whole competition. And Melissa was sure to go with Arnold now.

"Oh, what a fool I was to ever challenge Arnold Layne…"

* * *

><p>I saw my friends jumping over the wall from the spectator area and rushing over to me. Bert reached me first.<p>

"Ralph, Ralph!" He sounded concerned. "Ralph that was a nasty tumble you took! I can't believe that asshole wrecked you! Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine, I think…" I sighed. "There are only two things hurting right now. My wrist, and my self-esteem…" I felt like I was going to cry.

Melissa came dashing up to me, looking extremely terrified and worried. "Raaaaallllppppph!" I heard her shouting as she got to me. "Oh, Ralph, are you alright? How bad are you hurt?"

"My wrist…" I sighed sadly. I knew she was upset at what she'd seen. I'd let her down for good, it seemed.

My dad looked alarmed. "Dammit, son, can you believe that Layne kid? He knocked you off your damn bike! My god! What a piece of scum!"

"I know..." I sighed.

My mother was also there now. "Oh, my little Ralphie! You're hurt!"

"My wrist is…" I just felt like dying right then and there.

Mike Mulligan was the last to reach me. "Damn, kid, I may have been mad at you for what you said to my daughter, but…just…_damn_. I would never wish this upon anyone."

"Thanks, I think…" I just wanted to go home now and never show my face again.

Melissa immediately started hollering at me. I knew she was angry and upset I went through this whole competition with Arnold all for the right to take her to a dance. I couldn't blame her.

"Ralph Raccoon, I can't believe you! I thought you were a good guy, Ralph! You never had to go through all this for me! If you really wanted to go to that dance with me after all, you should have worked something out with me! I just cannot believe you would do something so utterly stupid for me! You could have been killed, Ralph! Do you think I would have wanted that? No! Ohhhhh….." She clenched her paws, as she started shaking. "I'm so angry I think I'm seeing red now!"

"Yeesh," my dad muttered. "Don't know why Ralph's interested in her, not a good idea to get on her bad side…"

Melissa glared at my father angrily.

"I said nothing, nothing, I swear!" He had an innocent look upon his face. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll try and see if I can get me some more of those nice little cocktail wieners." My dad slunk off, whistling to himself.

Melissa was getting ready to yell at me some more (I felt I deserved it, too-I knew I'd lost her respect for sure) when Arnold came strutting up to us, holding his trophy. He laughed.

"Look at this. Another trophy to add to my ever-growing collection. Not a suprise at all! That makes 37 amateur victories for me now." He tapped Melissa on the shoulder and smiled his devilish grin at her. "So, whaddaya think, baby? Aren't I the greatest?"

Melissa frowned. "_Sure_," she said, sarcastically.

Arnold laughed. "Well, doll face, I presume you'll go to that dance thingy with me now?"

Melissa shot a death glare at him. "As if! I saw what you did to Ralph, you cheated! You knocked him off his bike. Arnold, you have _no honor_!"

"Wasn't me, I swear," he said, feigning innocence. "It was just an accident, dollface. In the world of racing there's lots of accidents, some intentional, some not. This is one of the latter. It could happen to anyone, ya know?"

She shouted at him some more. "I saw you do it, Arnold! You are a dishonorable man, and I will not give you the pleasure of taking me to that dance! And Ralph, you are a spineless man, not having the courage to tell me about all this! There's no way I'd go with either of you-oh, _you're both as bad as each other_!"

"Ouch." Bert said, looking sorry for me. "Sorry, pal…"

I was already starting to cry, realizing I had definitely lost any chance at getting the girl I loved. I'd pretty much destroyed her opinion of me-Melissa thought I was no better than Arnold. At least she wouldn't go to the dance with him. But I knew now she'd never want to be with me, ever. I _really_ blew it. This was the dumbest thing I could have possibly done.

"I'm sorry…" I said meekly.

Melissa shouted at me again. "Ralph, stop crying, you! You should just lie there and think about what you've done! I still can't believe you did this, you imbecile! Why, I ought to-to-to..." Suddenly, her voice softened in tone and a look of sympathy appeared in her eyes. "Ought to…Oh, who am I kidding? I can't stay mad at you, Ralph." Much to my surprise, she stooped down and wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a really tight hug. I could see tears coming out of her eyes. I was so confused.

"Huh. What do you know?" Mike said, to no one in particular. "I guess she really is all yours, kid."

"What's going on, Melissa?" I was so confused. She went from being so angry at me to suddenly comforting me.

"Oh Ralph, I'm sorry I said all those things. I was just upset, you should have told me about all of this beforehand. Really, Ralph, I'm terribly sorry, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" I was still rather confused, but I could not be upset with her for too long.

"Of course I forgive you, Melissa."

"I forgive you too, Ralph. I can't stay mad at you for too long. I'm not angry anymore."

"Way to go, pal," Bert said winking at me. I laughed.

Arnold looked furious. "What the hell's all this angel eyes? You feel sorry for him? After what he did? Simply brushed you aside when you asked him to that dance and then tried to compete at something he had no skill at to make it up to you? What a reckless idiot! I don't get it. You ought to ditch that newspaper writing zero and go with me, a motorcycle racing hero!"

Melissa glared at him. "No way, Arnold. You tried to hurt Ralph. I saw you do it, how can you do that to him? Ralph's too nice of a guy, I can't believe you would do that."

"Hey, he cut me off…" Arnold fibbed.

"He did not! By the way, I think I've figured out why Ralph had a black eye and all those bruises…"

"Really now," Arnold said, idly. "What do you think happened?"

Melissa sneered at him (I hope Cedric and Cyril don't mind me using that word). "I have a good reason to suspect you hit Ralph."

"Really, now. What would ever make you think that, sweetheart? I'm just too damned nice a guy to ever do that, after all, Ralph's my buddy, aren't you Ralph?"

"Not in your lifetime." I said.

"I just have this sneaking hunch. You're not all you appear to be Arnold. I don't ever want to see your face again! You, go away with your meaningless trophy!"

Arnold looked like his pride had taken a considerable hit. "Grr, very well, you! But you haven't seen the last of Arnold Layne! Hahahahahaha!" Arnold laughed an ominous laugh as he headed out the arena.

Bert laughed as he called out mockingly to Arnold, "It's not the same, Arnold Layne..."

I heard Arnold shout "Shuddup!" as he left.

With that, Melissa turned back to me. "Alright Ralph. Now how bad are you injured?"

I grunted, still clutching my paw. "My wrist hurts pretty badly. I think I might have broken it…"

"Let me see it, please." I gave her my paw. She took a good look at it.

"No, it's not broken," she said, "it's just sprained. It'll heal with time, but if I were you I would try to not use it so much for a while. Oh Ralph," she said hugging me again. "I'm so glad you're not hurt any worse than you are."

"I am too." I laughed. "Boy, that was pretty dumb of me to go through this whole competition, wasn't it?"

Melissa chuckled as well. "Hah hah, you weren't that bad. Ralph, you would have beat him if he hadn't have cheated. I'm surprised they let him keep the trophy. Still, you were really doing quite well."

It was nice of her to praise me.

"Well, er, thank you." I said.

"It's no problem," she said smiling.

Mike said, "Well, nice to see the two of ya on good terms. I think I gotta go tend to my bar. See ya tomorrow, honey," Mike said.

"See you then, Dad!" Melissa waved as Mike left.

My father came back, his mouth full of cocktail wieners once again.

"Hey, looks like you two made up!"

"They sure did," my mother said, smiling as she put her arm around my dad.

"I guess you really got her, son." My dad winked at me.

"Way to go Ralphie!" Bert cheered for me.

"Gee, thanks, everyone."

Then someone came whizzing towards me in their wheelchair. Someone I'd completely forgotten about.

"Oh shit…" I said to myself. Keith was not happy.

"What's the matter?" Melissa asked.

"I wrecked his Pawley…" I sighed. "I am not looking forward to this…"

Sure enough, Keith came up to me and reached down and slapped me in the face. "You wrecked my froggin' bike, damn you!" He didn't actually say frog, but the real word he said, well, I really don't like to say it, so I will not retell exactly what he said. I think you get it. "I told you to be careful with my frogging bike, I trusted you, kid, you know I frogging trusted you! And you went and frogged it all up!" He then grabbed me by my scarf and shook me. "Frog you, you mother-frogger!" Melissa gasped, hearing such…colorful language.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Keith…"

Keith immediately softened up. "Sorry, kid. I was just a little upset, that _was _my best bike you demolished. But, I realize it's not all your fault, Ralph. That bastard knocked you off your bike. Why the hell did they let him keep the win?"

"I don't know," I said honestly.

"Well, anyways, you did a good job. And you should have won that thing. You have some skill that reminds me of myself when I was younger and learning to ride. I've actually been contemplating retiring from competition, how'd you like to compete for me every week here at this arena? I can always provide ya a bike."

I was honored. He actually thought I was really good? He wanted me to do this on a regular basis? Those words meant something to me. It was a very nice offer. But, the world of motorcycle racing just wasn't for me. I had to politely decline his offer.

"I'm sorry, Keith. It's a very nice offer, but I'll have to decline. Just between you and me, motorcycle racing isn't really something I want a career in. I hope you're not offended?" If he was, well…

Fortunately, he wasn't. "I understand, Ralph. It was nice getting to know you kid, you were really something, I'll say that. I wish ya the best of luck in all your future endeavors. And hey, if you ever do change your mind, kid, come drop by me. I'll be glad to set you up." He shook my paw (the one that wasn't sprained), and grinned.

"I'll be sure to do that, Keith," I said.

"And let it be known that I wish you and your girl over here," he said, pointing at Melissa (she turned red), "the best of luck."

"Thanks, it was nice making your acquaintance." I said as he turned to go.

"See ya 'round, kid. Shirley!" He shouted for his girlfriend. "C'mon, let's go get something to eat."

"All right, honey," Shirley said as she pushed him out of the arena.

My mother and father grinned at me. "Ralphie," my mother said, "how would you like to join us for dinner tonight? It's been a good while since you've dropped by for dinner the last time."

I would be very glad to do that. "Sure thing, Mom."

"Oh boy. Guess what we're having?" My dad's mouth started to water.

"What would that be?"

"She's cookin' some nice juicy steaks with potatoes on the side. Mmm, well-done..." My dad started involuntarily drooling.

"Goodie," I said. It wasn't the best thing in the world, but it would beat Bert's peanut butter stuff.

Melissa looked at my mother hopefully, "Mrs. Raccoon, would you mind if I joined you too? I'd like to come have dinner with Ralph's family."

My mom smiled. "Of course you can, Melissa. You're welcome at our household anytime."

Melissa grinned at me. "I guess we're going to have dinner together, Ralph!" She winked at me.

"I suppose so," I smiled back at her. "Say, Bert. Would you care to join us?"

Bert shook his head. "Nice of you to ask, but I got some things I need to take care of back at the Raccoondominium. See ya whenever you get back," Bert waved as he left.

"Bye, Bert," I said.

"See you around," Melissa said, waving.

"Now then," my dad said. "Let's go. I'm starving and I could eat an elephant right now."

**END CHAPTER TWELVE**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Whew! That was definitely my longest chapter. I promise this will be the longest chapter. Twelve thousand words (almost thirteen thousand)! I can't believe it. There are only a few more chapters left (4-5, I think). This fanfic is starting to wrap up. It's hard to believe I'm actually going to complete a fanfic. And long chapter=long author's notes.

Eldon Rasmussen is a real Indy Car driver who really did compete at Indy in the 1970s, and at the time in this fanfic (February 1982) he really was the most recent Canadian to compete in the race. Although, he obviously wasn't from the Evergreen Forest (he actually was from Edmonton-I thought it would be slightly interesting to present the Forest as having been the home of a 500 competitor). He attempted six Indy 500s (1974-1979) and started three, 1975, 1977, and 1979, all from the last row of the field. He made his debut in the 1975 Indy 500 at in which he was one of four rookies in the field. He ran up front and was in the top 10 when he collided with Tom Sneva's car and caused Sneva to have a violent accident (which was mentioned back in Chapter 3). The incident put Rasmussen out of the race and he ended up 24th, 3rd out of the 4 rookies, ahead of Larry McCoy, but behind Sheldon Kinser and that year's rookie of the year, Bill Puterbaugh. He would go on to finish 13th in 1977 and 23rd in 1979, his final start at the speedway. Ralph's mentioning of him having built his own cars is true; he actually had his very own unique chassis (which he called "Rascar") that he ran in 1975 and in 1977; in 1979 he qualified a 7-year old Antares chassis into the field. In real life, he's 75 years old (at the time of writing) and currently lives in Indianapolis, working as a part fabricator building exhaust systems for Indy Car teams. He was inducted into the Canadian Motorsport Hall of Fame in 2001 for his contributions to Canadian motorsports.

As for the commentators at the motorcycle competition, Dick Ermine appeared in a few episodes of the show, commentating on the Evergreen Games in _Stop The Clock!_, and announced the skateboarding competition in _Stealing The Show!_ As for Keith Stackson, he's a Raccoons version of legendary ABC Sports announcer Keith Jackson, who worked for many, many years in the business. He called many college football games and often announced on their _Wide World of Sports _broadcasts in the 1970s, calling the 1974 Firecracker 400 at Daytona and also co-calling the 1975 Indy 500 alongside F1 champion Jackie Stewart.

_My Ding-a-Ling _was the real life Chuck Berry's only #1 hit in both the USA and Canada. It's a rather idiotic song filled with double entendres.

And as mentioned, Steel Airship is a Raccoons' version of Led Zeppelin, my all-time favorite band in real life. (Though _Stairway to Heaven_ is NOT my favorite song by then-that honor goes to _Achilles' Last Stand_). As mentioned, they really did play Vancouver in March of 1975, and that is the concert that Bert is said to have gone to. (Though he would be only thirteen at the time…) Ralph also has the date of their debut album's release slightly wrong, their self-titled debut came out in January 1969 (although it was recorded in October 1968, so technically, he still is right). Ralph's opinion of them obviously does _not _reflect my real-life opinion of them; I thought it would be fun to take the opposite viewpoint from my own, from a non-fan unimpressed by their music. The three songs he gives the lyrics of are all from their first album and are, as follows: _You Shook Me_ (a blues cover of a Willie Dixon song), _Dazed And Confused_ (a heavy rock adaptation of a folk song), and the album's closer, _How Many More Times_ (which is almost nine minutes long and contains bits and pieces of a number of blues songs).

I am aware this chapter is somewhat similar to the episode "The Sky's The Limit!" I did take a little bit of inspiration from that episode, it's one of my favorite episodes. One of the few to focus mainly on Ralph, which is always a plus.

As always, don't forget to read and review!


	13. Chapter 13: Every Picture Tells A Story

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** After Chapter 12, which is my longest chapter in this fanfic, this fanfic is beginning to wind down. The first part of this chapter is something I wanted to put in the last chapter but had to move it here due to that chapter running long. Enjoy Ralph's dad's Homer-ish antics. And of course, this chapter will feature the dance that's been talked about so much since Chapter 10. Warning, this chapter is almost as long as the last one. All the rest of the chapters will be around this long.

And while I mention it, there are going to be just a few more chapters, as well as an epilogue which wraps up the events leading up to the show itself and also, because I am that big of a nerd, a character list. (Yes...)

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap:**_ _I don't own the…Oh, come on! You get it by now! Enough of that!_

_Anyways, I'd like to take this opportunity to say I'd actually love to see a cutaway gag on Family Guy or a sketch on Robot Chicken featuring the Raccoons. It would probably be rather funny (if not outright condemning towards the show). Then again, I take this moment to realize the rather probable likelihood that Seth MacFarlane and Seth Green have never heard of this show (being that it was one of the more obscure '80s cartoons, at least where I live-in the States. Here, it only aired on the Disney Channel, and that was only if you had a cable/satellite. It amazes me that this show was rather popular in its native Canada, yet close to unknown State-side. I guess my fellow Americans were too busy watching GI Joe and He-Man to pay attention to this cartoon.) Eh, oh well..._

_And now…_

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Every Picture Tells A Story**

It wasn't long before my parents, Melissa, and I had reached my old home.

"Well, boy," my dad said. "Ready to see your old room?"

"Sure, Dad," I replied. I did wonder what my parents had done to it since I'd moved out of their house.

"I can't wait to see your old room," Melissa said to me.

"I suppose you will," I answered.

We entered the house and my dad took Melissa and I upstairs to where my bedroom once was.

"Well, here it is, son." My dad opened the door and flicked on the light switch. "What do ya think?"

I was surprised. My old bed was gone, the place was completely cleared of nearly every trace of me. Instead, the room was filled with tons and tons of junk. Wait a minute…

"What are Sneer Industries' products doing here?"

"Oh, heh heh," my dad said, chuckling. "That's uh…some stuff I borrowed while doing my upholstery work. I always take some little souvenirs from every house I work at."

I shook my head. "Dad, I can't believe it…"

Melissa looked at my father with a rather surprised look on her face. "Mr. Raccoon, you….steal from your clients?"

"I wouldn't use the word stealing, it's such a strong word." My father laughed. "Haha, I prefer to think of it as borrowing! I just take a nice little souvenir from each client's house. It's not stealing if they don't miss it. Isn't that right, boy?" My father looked at me grinning, looking for support.

"Not exactly…" I said, truthfully. "I'm sure they're probably looking for their things."

"That's not what my father told me," Melissa admitted. "I'm pretty sure that is stealing, Mr. Raccoon. You _could_ go to jail for that."

"Eh, whatever!" My father shrugged and looked innocent. "I'm gonna give it back one of these days, when, I don't know, but when I know, I know. But until then, the stuff's staying."

"So you dad is using your old room to store his…souvenirs…." Melissa said, matter-of-factly.

"I know. I'm surprised as well. I would have thought he would have least kept it in order." I was a little disappointed in my dad.

I heard my mother calling from downstairs in the kitchen. "Honey, Ralphie, Melissa! Dinner's ready! Come and get it!"

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!" My father dashed downstairs as fast as he could, his bent nose going all the way. He literally _pranced_ his way down the stairs like a galloping horse.

Melissa shook her head.

"Never have I seen one man so enticed by food..." she said to herself.

"Well, that's Dad for you," I said simply.

"I know. Well, let's eat, Ralph," Melissa answered.

"Alright then," I replied.

We got to the kitchen as my dad was already seated at the table and already had his napkin tied around his neck.

"Ooh, steak!" My dad, said, drooling as my mother placed the steak on the table. He was acting like a small child right now, but that _was _how he acted when he saw food. "Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme!"

"Here you go, dear," my mother said.

"Mmm!" My father immediately cut the fat off his steak and shoved it straight into his mouth.

"Mmm…cow fat…" My father always loved eating pure fat. He loved nearly everything that was incredibly fatty, or extra sugary, or generally unhealthy altogether.

"Here you two are," my mother said as she placed first Melissa's dinner on the table, then mine.

Soon we were having a conversation during dinner. Well, at least my mother, Melissa, and I were-Dad was too busy stuffing his face with his steak.

"So Melissa," my mother asked her, "how long have you known Ralph?"

"Oh, we've known each other almost a year now." She smiled at me.

"Oh yes, about a year," I agreed.

"So you two have really gotten to know one another. How'd you two meet each other? Did you meet each other at college?"

"Sort of," Melissa nodded. "It was really cute. Tell your mother how the two of us met, Ralph!"

"Uh, do I have to? Alright," I said. "I was at the Café trying to get some breakfast, because Bert was trying to get me to eat his peanut butter, when I bumped into her and spilled my coffee on her."

"Ah," my mother sighed. "Reminds me of how my husband and I met. Go on Art, tell our guest how the two of us met."

"Oh c'mon, Millie, that was such a long time ago," my father sighed, his mouth still full of steak. He swallowed it. "But, lemme jog the old brain here. Boy, I hate thinking…" He thought for a minute. "Oh yeah! I met her in my senior year in high school. I was going through the library looking for a book for some project I had for school when I accidentally dropped it on her head. I ended up doing a terrible job on that assignment and getting a low grade. So I dropped out. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea now that I think about it. I wish I did complete high school…"

"You could still go back anytime and complete your last courses, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa told my father. "I'm sure they'd let you do that."

"Me? No way," my dad said, simply. "I never learned anything from school. Hell, I don't even know what the capital of our country is, nor do I even know who our Prime Minister is! The capital's Charlottetown, isn't it?"

Melissa just spoke under her breath. "...Wow."

My mom corrected him. "No, dear, the capital's Ottawa. Charlottetown is on Prince Edward Island."

My dad slapped himself in the face. "See? The things I don't know could fill a book! That's why I failed high school..."

"It's no problem. That was a fascinating story, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa replied to him. "It's interesting learning more about your family, Ralph."

"Well, they _are_ quite a cast of characters," I chuckled.

Soon we were finished with our dinner and my dad raced out into the living room. "Hey, you guys!" He shouted at Melissa and me.

"What is it Dad?"

"You ought to watch that big football game with me! Our Lions are taking on those goddamn Roughriders and I got seventy five bucks riding on this game! If the Lions win, I'm in the money!" My dad always bet on football games.

"Alright, Mr. Raccoon." Melissa smiled. "Come, Ralph, let's watch this game together."

"I suppose so. Remember, my dad can get a little too…into it, if you know what I mean."

"I understand," she replied.

"Alright," my dad said as he flicked on the old black and white television (let's just say he never bothered buying a color television) and he turned it to the game, which was more than halfway over. Already they were almost done with the third quarter. The Lions were losing 25-17.

"Ah, dammit! We're gonna lose! Oh…I can see my money flying away from me already…"

My father sat back in his reclining chair while Melissa and I sat on the couch.

"So what do you think of football, Melissa?" I asked her.

"It's alright, but I've never been much of a fan. I admit I don't know a whole lot about the sport."

"I've seen enough to where I could teach you more about it," I told her. "But I've never actually played. I never took part in sports in high school." This was quite true: I'd never been much of an athlete. Bert had, though: he'd played on our high school's baseball team. Him and Cedric both. They were actually quite good and made it to the playoffs but lost big time in their first game (they got shut out 9-0 as the opposing team pitched a no-hitter) and got eliminated. Bert also tried out for the football team, but they didn't allow him onto the team (something that really upset him).

"Oh, well. I played hockey in high school." Melissa smiled fondly.

"Were you any good?" I asked.

"Oh, I was the best on my team! We almost won the provincial championship, but we lost at the finals…If I could do it all over again…" She was obviously remembering her loss.

"Sorry to hear about that," I said to her.

"Ah, it's nothing, Ralph," Melissa grinned. "You can't win them all, after all. Oh, and I was also the pitcher for my school's girl's softball team." I was definitely impressed. Melissa had been quite an athlete in her school days.

"How good were you at that?" I asked.

"Very good. We actually won the provinical girl's softball championship! I was the best pitcher our school ever had; I had quite the throwing arm."

"Wow," I said, impressed. "That's quite impressive, Melissa."

"I know, but I don't like to brag," she said, modestly.

My dad was getting excited as the Lions were very close to making a touchdown. They were getting ready to make the pass...

"C'mon, you big dummy!" my dad shouted at the TV. "Catch that son of a gun! I want my money!"

The quarterback threw it...

...straight into the arms of the Roughriders' wide receiver.

My dad screamed.

"No, dammit! An interception!" he shouted angrily. "C'mon, this can't be happening! I want my seventy-five dollars, it's the easiest seventy-five I'll ever make!"

Suddenly, the game was interrupted by a local public service announcement.

"WHAT THE-!" My father was getting agitated. He was missing his game. "C'mon, dammit! Go back to the game! Nooooooo!"

The public service announcement showed a beer can with a big "X" over it.

"ATTENTION CITIZENS OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. THE FOLLOWING IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT." A voice came over the TV. "It has recently been discovered through a study that alcohol can cause liver damage and death to brain cells. Please, citizens of BC, refrain from drinking alcohol if possible." That was some good advice and some rather strong words.

My father simply reared his head back. "Mmm, beer…" he uttered, as he robotically pulled himself up from his chair and waddled over to the kitchen to presumably go get some Snoup's out of the refrigerator. It was clear he'd only heard one word out of that whole public service announcement: alcohol. Which, in his simple mind, was absolutely delicious.

Melissa chuckled at my father's behavior. "You aren't kidding, Ralph. Your father really _is _quite a character."

"What can I say? He's my dad," I laughed.

Soon the game was almost over and the final seconds were on the clock. BC was losing 25-24, but they had the opportunity to make a field goal at the last second. That would give them the win, which my father was already starting to pray for as they set up their kick.

"Lord Almighty, if you can hear me," I saw him with his eyes closed, locked in prayer, "please, hear me out. Let the Lions win this game so I can get my seventy-five dollars. I don't ask you for much, Lord, but that's all I'm asking for. Is that too much to ask? I hope not. So, if we're going to win, Lord, then please don't give me any signs." He briefly opened an eye, then closed it again. "Thy shalt be done. Amen!"

Melissa laughed and nudged me. "You definitely weren't kidding when you said your dad takes these games way too seriously."

"He always does. Watch if they lose. He's going to throw a fit."

The kicker was ready to make his field goal attempt. Dad had his fingers crossed.

"C'mon, please, make it make it make it make it make it make it…" he said, in a begging tone.

The kicker made his kick.

"And it's no good!" The announcer shouted. "The Roughriders have won!"

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!" My dad's head nearly exploded in anger. "GODDAMMIT! MY SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS JUST WENT DOWN THE DRAIN! DAMMIT, NO!" He angrily picked up his beer and flung it at the floor, spilling it all over. "DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!" He then realized what he'd just done with his beer and started crying. "AAAHH! NO, MY BEER, MY BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL BEER! Spilt too young-all because we lost!"

Melissa shook her head. "Your dad," she said.

My mother came in. "Art, it's just a game, it's not life or death!"

My dad shouted at her, "Honey, you don't understand, it is if you bet money on it! Oh, woe is me…" My dad pathetically moaned and whined.

My mom sighed, "I suppose I'm going to have to clean up after him…" She shook her head.

"Well," Melissa said, "it was nice having dinner with you, but I think I should be heading back home. I don't think Dad'll like having me out all night. I suppose I'll see you around."

My father sighed. "Nice having you here. Sorry about…heh, heh…my little sports tantrum."

"No problem, Mr. Raccoon." Melissa grinned at him.

"See you later, Melissa. It was a pleasure having you over here, come back any time," my mom called.

"I will, Mrs. Raccoon. Bye, Ralph, I'll see you soon, I hope?" She looked at me.

I couldn't let her walk home alone. "Wait, Melissa. How about I walk you home?"

Melissa turned red. "Ah, of course, Ralph. Such a gentleman," she smiled.

My father winked at me. "Trying to put the moves on her, eh? Good one, son! I taught ya all too well."

I glared at my dad. "Oh, stop, you!"

"Heh, heh…sorry boy."

* * *

><p>Melissa and I soon left and we walked home through the forest. It was completely dark outside and she was holding my paw (not the one that was sprained). I couldn't help but blush.<p>

"Wow, Ralph. Today was quite a day, wasn't it?" she laughed.

"Sure was, Melissa. Sorry about that whole…motorcycle thing." I was still a little embarrassed I'd done that. I should have never done that, in retrospect.

"It's alright Ralph. We all make mistakes sometimes, don't we?"

"Very true," I admitted.

"Just promise me, Ralph, that you won't do anything like that again anytime soon. That was very dangerous of you. And besides, you never needed to do that, anyways."

I sighed. "I promise, Melissa...I just didn't know what to do." I ended up breaking that promise when Troy Malone came to town. (Needless to say, I guess I have a very hard time learning from my mistakes!)

Soon we got back to her house. Mike wasn't home, but he left the door unlocked. (Burglary was not very common in the Forest). Melissa opened the door.

"I'll see you soon, Ralph. Thanks for walking me home." She waved goodbye to me.

Suddenly, I remembered there was something I wanted to ask her.

"Wait a minute, Melissa!" I called to her.

She turned around and looked at me. "What is it, Ralph?"

"I, erm, I have…something I'd like to ask you. Do you mind?" I hoped she didn't.

"Of course not, ask away!" She smiled.

"Melissa…erm…uh…how can I say this…will you go with me to the dance?" That came out sounding terrible.

But Melissa didn't care. She giggled.

"I'd love to, Ralph. I'd be honored to go with you." I was surprised. She really was giving me a second chance?

"Really? That's great-ah, I mean, after what I said to you when you tried to ask me?"

Melissa nodded. "Yes. I think you more than deserve another chance, you're a nice guy. It's better than what I planned on doing, I was probably just going to go take some pictures of it by myself. It would have been nice, but not a lot of fun. But yes, Ralph, I can give you another chance. I know we'll have a lot of fun together. Don't you think?" She smiled, and sighed, dreamily. She was definitely looking forward to it-and so was I.

"Oh, definitely!" I agreed. "Looks like we're going to spend Valentine's together…" I chuckled nervously.

"We sure are, Ralph." She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

"Aahhhh…." I said, feeling my toes curling up once again. My mind was about completely shot.

"I can't wait Ralph, it's only a few days away. Just remember, it's a formal event, so you have to get dressed up for it."

"That's no problem, I have my old tuxedo in my closet somewhere. Left over from when I had my prom. Which didn't turn out so well…" I didn't want to remember my prom-that had been one of the worst nights of my life.

"I'm sure you'll look handsome. Well, I'll be seeing you, Ralph. I sure am looking forward to Valentine's!" She winked as she closed the door.

"See you then," I said.

Everything seemed like it was finally going right for me. All through high school, I'd had so many girl troubles, that I felt like I was always doomed to be alone. Now, it looked like for sure I was finally going to get the girl. Bert was right after all. Things really did change once you got to college.

* * *

><p>A couple of nights passed and it was the night before the dance. I was finishing up my big assignment that my grade counted on. I was very proud of what I'd written. I heard the front door open up-Bert had been out most of the night. I assumed he might have been practicing music for the dance.<p>

I went down to greet him.

"Hey, Ralphie boy!" he said as he slapped me on the back. I didn't even care like I usually did. I felt in a pretty good mood.

"Good to see you, Bert," I said to him, "so where have you been?"

"Oh, I was just at Lady Baden-Baden's practicing my setlist for the dance." He grinned.

"I take it you must not have enjoyed that. You're going to be playing a bunch of soft rock, and I know how much you dislike going acoustic…" I laughed. Bert rarely ever played acoustic, he was more often playing his electric and trying to scream his head off, which he (admittedly) was not very good at.

"Hey, I managed to suggest some changes that Lady Baden-Baden agreed with." He seemed proud of himself.

"Really now? So you are going to be playing heavy metal now?" I actually dreaded that possibility. That would certainly not be something to remember. You couldn't really dance to heavy metal. You were supposed to bob your head up and down to it-I never did that.

"Not exactly, Ralph. I'm still going to be playing mostly soft love songs from the past couple decades, but I got a few of those songs dropped and I got some good ones on there instead. So we're going to play some acoustic and some electric. Oh, and I got my band together!" He was excited.

"Who's all in it?" I asked.

"It's me on lead guitar and vocals, Carl Waters on piano and vocals, remember him?" I remembered Carl quite well-Cedric, Bert, and I had gone to high school with him. Carl was a duck and he was Dr. Canard's nephew. He was a very smart guy (bespectacled, too) who finished right behind Cedric in class rank-Cedric was #1, and he was #2. Unlike Cedric, though, Carl was _very_...eccentric, if I must say so myself. He was probably the oddest kid in my whole grade. Like Cedric and myself, he was something of an outsider-although in his case, it was largely by his own choice (he said he didn't really like people in general). He actually worked on our high school's newspaper with me and the articles he wrote were...bizarre, to say the least. I couldn't really understand them must of the time. Not to mention, some of his mannerisms and his sense of humor were quite odd as well. He actually frequently got in trouble at school for some of his bizarre comments. I had a feeling that something was...not quite right in his head. (It later turned out Carl had a form of schizophrenia.) He played keyboards, just like Cedric, except, unlike Cedric, Carl definitely had ambitions of being a rock keyboardist. He once said he would be the "Canadian Elton Brawn, only with a lot more experimentation and edge". I knew he could play the electric piano and the Ham-mond organ quite well, but I'd never heard him sing, so I was slightly interested to hear what he sounded like.

"Who could forget him?"

"Not me, that's for sure!" Bert said. "We also have Mark Miller on bass guitar, Don Davis on rhythm guitar and vocals, and Clancy Rogers on drums." I knew Don and Mark vaguely; they were college associates of Bert's who were also majoring in music. As for Clancy, I knew him quite well-he was my dad's friend Henry's son and had also gone to high school with me. I remembered him as being a pretty quiet kid. "I would have had Cedric play piano, but, well, he's not here currently, so…I went with Carl."

"Ah. It should be a pretty good performance you five put on." I felt Bert would do a good job. I hoped the rest of the band would too.

"Oh, you'd better believe it Ralph!" He laughed. "I'll show you the new setlist in a minute. First, let's see what's on the TV." He flipped the TV on and flipped through the channels as the both of us sat on the couch together.

"Ah, this should be good!" Bert said as he found something that caught his interest.

"What would that be, Bert?" I wondered.

"Why, it's Oxnard Montalvo's latest movie, _The Return Of The Killer Pond Scum From Neptune That Will Eat Your Brain_!"

I groaned. "Good grief." Oxnard Montalvo was a B-movie actor (and one of Bert's favorites) well known for appearing in various extremely low budget "horror" films, alongside his real-life girlfriend, Toluca Lake. The both of them were seriously lacking in acting skills, and the only thing terrifying about these movies was how poor the acting was and how low the budget was.

Sure enough, on the TV, Toluca was screaming as a bizarre blob started moving towards her.

I nudged Bert. "Bert, if you don't mind, please, tell me what the hell that thing on the TV is?"

Bert laughed. "Oh, well, Ralphie boy, that's the killer pond scum from Neptune! Toluca and Oxnard defeated it in the first movie by sucking it up with a vacuum cleaner, but now it's come back. And it wants vengeance. It wants their brains..."

I shook my head. _Why _did Bert watch these?

"Oxnard, get away. It's the pond scum," Toluca said, displaying virtually no emotion at all and just looking at a microphone hanging from the ceiling.

"No, Toluca. We...must fight…this pond…scum. Even if it kills us?" He wasn't even trying to sound convincing.

Toluca screamed as the blob...err, the _pond scum_ slowly started to move towards her and crawled up her arm.

"AHHHHH!" she screamed. At least her scream sounded somewhat convincing. "Get it away from me. Now. Please."

"Toluca," Oxnard said, suddenly pulling out his script right on TV and looking at it. "Please. Cover your ears. Before it tries to get to your brain?"

My goodness, this was terrible. I couldn't believe these things actually made money. Bert, on the other hand, seemed completely fascinated.

"Wowee! Pretty scary, eh, Ralph?" He nudged me, actually expecting me to be scared.

I huffed. "I don't see how that's supposed to be scary at all. All I see is a farce of epic proportions happening on that TV screen."

Bert sighed. "One of these days you'll appreciate Oxnard's talent for these movies, Ralph…" Oxnard was just another one of Bert's many heroes. Talent for _what_, I wondered though. Hell. _I _had more acting talent than either he or Toluca did. Bert had a pretty questionable taste in heroes...

"That'll be the day," I said sarcastically.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Bert said, as he pulled a piece of paper out. "This is my setlist. What do you think of it Ralphie? Isn't it a good one?"

I looked over it. He'd changed about seven songs or so. He'd managed to get rid of Woodchuck Berry's _My Ding-a-Ling_, which was great, as it was most certainly _not _appropriate for a romantic dance. But overall, the changes were pretty good-until I noticed one of the last songs on the list.

"Bert, you can't be serious. You're not going to play a Steel Airship song, are you?" He had to be kidding. Steel Airship weren't appropriate for Valentine's Day at all-then again, my only real experience listening to them was that first album which I'd hated so much. Bert always had talked me into doing the dumbest things-listening to Steel Airship's debut album, going to see Uriah Sheep...

"Ah, but there's a difference there, Ralphie. This particular song is one _hell _of a love song, if I may say so myself! You and Melissa'll probably love it, I'm sure. It sounds like just your kind of song." He laughed. I doubted him immediately. I'd never heard this particular song before, so I was expecting it to be a generic heavy metal tune with a bunch of screaming. It was news to me that they had written straight up love songs, though-I'd previously thought all their songs dealing with matters of the heart had been about, well, raunchy sex.

"We'll see, Bert, we'll see." I doubted him greatly. I imagined we would be in for something completely atrocious to the ears.

"Trust me on this, Ralph! This'll change your mind about Steel Airship completely! You'll finally see they're a better band than you give them credit."

"I really doubt that, Bert," I said. "That first album you showed me was enough to put me off of them for a lifetime."

"Well, this'll change your mind, trust me! Oh, and me and the band have got something big planned. We got one more song we're gonna perform that's not on the list. We're playing it last, right after we're done."

Oh boy. "What exactly are you going to play?"

He laughed again. "You'll see…Heh-heh-heh…" I was worried. What could he _possibly _play last?

Bert went back to watching his movie while I sat there thinking about how this would all turn out-hopefully very well. After a while, Bert struck up a conversation with me again.

"So, Ralph. You and Melissa are going to this dance together." He grinned that mischievous, goofy grin of his.

"That's right, Bert. We most certainly are." I was proud of myself for managing to get her to go with me.

"So, Ralph. Think this'll lead to something big?" He laughed.

"Who knows, Bert," I shrugged.

"Hey," he said winking at me. "This is going to be how you two get together. Am I right?"

I certainly did hope so. "There's a good possibility of it. We'll see how it all turns out."

"Good," he said, putting his paws behind his head. "About time you two got together. It's about time the game of love went your way."

"Thanks," I said, taking that as a compliment.

"Eh, no problem. So what are you going to do with her?" Bert was curious.

"Oh, well, I'm supposed to go pick Melissa up at 6:30. I'm planning on taking her out to dinner and then we'll go to the dance. It should be a nice night." I smiled just thinking about it.

"I gotta be there at five, they want us to practice one last time before we perform. Got to correct any mistakes we've still got in us. Not that we would ever play badly," Bert laughed.

"I'm sure," I chuckled as well. "So, Bert, you and Delilah aren't having dinner or something together?" I hadn't seen Delilah Blackmask in a few months, but it could be possible she and Bert were still going out with each other.

"Delilah who?" Bert asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know who, Bert." I wasn't in the mood for any games.

"Oh, no way, Ralphie. Delilah and I broke up a couple months ago. We had some…ah, differences." He chuckled. "You know."

"Oh." I should have figured as much, but he never told me about it-she just stopped showing up one day.

"Erm, I hate to admit it," Bert said, looking rather sheepish, "but, eh-heh, I sorta…caught something from her…"

Good grief. Delilah had probably been cheating on Bert and given him something. That also meant Bert had had unprotected sex with her. Dammit! Did people just _not _believe in condoms?

"Dammit, Bert, what did you catch from her?" I was a bit angry at him.

"Heh, heh…" He nervously chuckled. "I got the clap…"

So _that _was why he'd had that medication. He'd never told me anything about it. "BERT!" I shouted at him, slapping him. "You had unprotected sex with Delilah, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah…" he shrugged. "But I don't know, I was really drunk at the time...I don't know. Can't really remember it."

That still didn't excuse it.

"Bert, you realize you probably _deserved _to catch that from her doing that. Besides, you know that means she was probably sleeping around on you, right?"

"Oh, I know that, pal, I know that. That's why I dumped her."

"Bert, you don't understand. You didn't use protection, don't you realize there's a chance you _might _have gotten her pregnant?"

Bert's eyes widened. "Oh shit…" He said. "Damn, I hope not."

"Bert, my brother, my father, and Mike Mulligan all almost had illegitimate children, do you want to be like them?"

"Not really…" he sighed.

"Bert, if she got pregnant, you'll probably have to marry her. That, or Delilah'll start demanding you pay child support on the kid. You better hope you didn't knock her up."

"Eh, what are the odds? It was only one time," he said, trying to look on the bright side.

"Higher than you'd think," I said frowning at him.

"Well, no worries. I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about."

"I hope not." I sighed.

* * *

><p>The next day came and it was almost time for the dance. Bert was already getting ready. Surprisingly, he wasn't dressing up-all he did was put a bowtie on. He still wore his trademark sweater.<p>

"Not dressing up?" I asked.

"Meh, I hate dressin' up." He said. "I'm sure nobody'll care if I play dressed like this, I doubt my band's dressing up either."

"I wouldn't count on that…" I said as I was already getting ready. I already had my tux on and was adjusting my bowtie. "Well," I asked. "Tell me what you think, Bert. How do I look?"

"Heh, like a million bucks!" He laughed. "Melissa is going to be very impressed, no doubt!"

I smiled. "I sure do hope so. I wonder what she's going to be wearing?" I said aloud.

"She'll probably impress ya too, Ralph." He grinned.

"Oh, probably." I admitted.

"Well, I gotta get going now, Ralphie boy," Bert said, grabbing his guitar and his amplifier. "Good luck to you on your date!"

"Thanks, I hope you perform well," I said waving to him as he left. "Please, no antics." I hoped he wouldn't act up like he said he might last night.

After about an hour it was about time to head over to the Mulligan household to pick Melissa up.

"Well," I said as I left the house, "here goes everything. Let's see how this all turns out."

It took me about twenty-five minutes to reach the Mulligan house.

I knocked on the door, and Mike answered.

He opened the door and stared at me.

"Ah, it's you. Say," he said, taking a closer look at me. "Looking smart there, kid. I'm certain my daughter'll be impressed."

"Where is she?" I asked. "I'm here to take her to the dance."

"Ah, she's upstairs getting ready. Should be down here in a few minutes. I'll tell her if you like."

"Sure thing, Mike."

Mike stood at the foot of his stairs and called. "Hey, Melissa, your date is here!"

I heard her calling from her bedroom, "Ah, just a minute, Dad. I'll be right down!"

Mike spoke to me, "Well, she'll be down any minute, Ralph. Come, come sit with me on the couch."

"Alright," I said as the two of us sat down.

Mike pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up and started smoking it.

"Ah, tobacco..." he said, to himself as he exhaled the smoke. "What about you, kid? You fancy a smoke?"

I shook my head. "No, Mike, I'd rather not. I had a cigarette when I was in eighth grade, I didn't like it. I don't plan to start anytime soon."

"Well, that's good," Mike said, grinning. "That's the answer I hoped I'd hear. Believe me, Ralph, you don't ever want to start smoking. 'Cause once you start, you'll never be able to stop. I know. I started smoking when I was ten. Found a pack of cigarettes in a garbage can. Smoked 'em just for fun, and well, I ended up getting addicted to these babies. They're my oral fixation, if ya will. What can I say? I _was_ a real dumb kid."

I listened to Mike's story. "Have you tried to quit?" I asked, curiously.

"Of course I have, kid. I've tried quitting many times. My wife almost successfully made me quit-but when she died, I took it up again. I actually became a chain smoker for quite a while. Used to smoke three whole packs of these a day. I've smoked so many cigarettes in my lifetime I should be dead by now. At least, that's what the doctors told me. Melissa tried to get me to stop because she was worried for my health, so I tried going cold turkey. Didn't work, I ended up having lots of spasms and all sorts of other problems, so I ended up going right back to smoking. I tried again a couple years ago, ended up chewing it instead of smoking it. _That's_ much worse for you. Rots your teeth out. I chewed tobacco nonstop for a year and rotted some of my teeth right out. So eventually I just went back to smoking again. I've tried cutting it back to one pack a day; and so far I've been able to stick to it. But like I said, don't be like me, Ralph. Once you start there's a good chance you'll never be able to stop." He took another puff off of his cigarette.

"I don't plan to anytime soon," I repeated.

Mike spoke again. "Well, that's good. I don't think my little angel would like that. Speaking of you two," he said, changing the subject to a more pressing matter, "I do hope you have a good time tonight with my little darling. She's really looking forward to it. She's…ah, quite fond of you, I'd say."

I nodded. "I noticed."

"Well, you'd probably be the best boyfriend she's had. She had a few in high school."

"Really?" I said, curious. "What were they like?"

"Can't say I cared for any of 'em, honestly. I remember the one guy she went to her prom with. Was trying to become an aviator or something or other. He was too cocky, couldn't say I liked him one bit."

"Interesting…" I said, to myself. I'd later find out that that particular guy had been Troy Malone, Melissa's old high school boyfriend, but I didn't find that out until years later.

"Yeah, he was a real asshole. Couldn't stand him at all, I was glad when the two of 'em broke up shortly before graduation. I used to mock him all the time by singing that one old song by Eric Beardon, how does it go...Oh yeah. '_Sky pilot, how high can you fly? You'll never, never, ever reach the sky!_' Didn't faze him one bit."

I vaguely knew that song. "Must have been quite a guy," I mused.

"Yeah, quite the asshole, like that Arnold guy. But, ah, anyways, kid, ah, like I said, I hope you two have a good time tonight. But not _too _good a time. If you get my drift." I knew exactly what he was trying to suggest.

"Mike, I don't think that'll happen. You don't need to worry about it." I didn't plan on that happening, but you never knew…

"Well, you never can tell kid. They always say to watch out for the nice guys, the quiet ones. Above all, what I'm trying to say is, you two better not be having any funny business. If you're planning on doing that, you'll have to marry her first. I raised her not to make the same dumb mistakes as me. But I can never tell if I've raised her well enough. Do you know what I'm gonna do to you if I find out you two did do the dirty?" He glared at me.

"Uh…what?" I had an idea it would not be pleasant, knowing Mike.

"I'm gonna plug you right between the eyes with my shotgun. Don't think I won't do it too! Because although I may have shot my own damn eye out when I was a little kit, my shooting abilities have increased a lot since then. Hell, I _was _the president of my local gun club back in Prince Rupert! I figure I could nail you right there between the eyes!"

I heard Melissa's voice from behind me. "Ah, come on, Dad, you don't take Ralph for that kind of a guy, do you? And besides, you may have been president of the gun club, but no offense, you are a terrible shot." I'd been so busy talking to Mike that I'd never even noticed her come downstairs.

"Well, honey, I think I am a pretty good judge of character, but I can always be wrong." Mike chuckled to me. "I gave that same warning to her old boyfriends too, you're not the first, believe me, kid."

"I understand, Mike, you're only trying to look out for her." Maybe he was a little too protective, but he was just concerned about her-any father would be.

"That I am."

"Okay, I'm ready, Ralph," Melissa said excitedly. I turned to look at her.

"Well, how do I look?" she asked me.

I took a good look at her, and needless to say…I was…well…awestruck. Melissa was wearing a simple lavender dress. Not the fanciest dress, but...it fit her very well, I must say. She was wearing some nice-smelling perfume and a pearl necklace. To me, she looked very beautiful.

I was finding myself coming up short for words.

"You look…ah…ah…ah…lovely, Melissa." I just couldn't help _but _get tongue-tied. I was too taken in by her beauty.

Melissa giggled. "Thanks, Ralph. I thought you'd like it. Say, you look pretty handsome yourself." She smiled at me, I couldn't help but blush.

"Oh, well, this is my old tux from when I went to prom. It's…well, it's an experience I'd like to forget." It most certainly was.

"Aw, don't worry. I'm certain this will make up for those bad memories. Hey," she chuckled, "you could even consider this your second prom, if you'd like."

That was actually a nice idea. "I might just do that," I laughed.

"Well," Mike said. "I suppose you two ought to get going. I don't think I need to spoil your night."

"What's the matter, Dad?" Melissa looked at her father a bit concerned.

"Oh nothing, sweetheart. It's just…ah…it makes me kind of sad to see my little girl having a date for Valentine's Day, while in the meantime I gotta go off to my bar and go tend to it. All the lonely folks who couldn't get a date will probably be at my Beer Emporium and at Greg's House of Beer-damn that Greg." Mike still had that grudge against his rival. "But, seriously, I'm probably the hero to those people. They're lonely, and so am I. All I'll have for company on Valentine's Day is a bunch of miserable drunks. You have him." Mike sighed.

"Aw, cheer up Dad. Who knows? You might meet someone you really like at the bar. I met Ralph at the Café, you never know where it might happen!"

Mike sighed heavily. "I wish I could believe that…" He looked at me. "But Valentine's Day is the _worst _holiday ever, no offense. It only serves to remind people like me that we're forever alone. But, I apologize if I'm depressing you two. You two should get going. Ralph, have her back before midnight, if you can. I don't want the two of you out all night now."

Melissa sighed. "Well, alright, Dad. See you tomorrow, then."

"Later, Mike," I waved to him.

"Bye, you two have a good time."

As we went out walking, I struck up a conversation with Melissa.

"Your father is awfully lonely," I said. "I feel pretty sorry for him."

"He's been lonely for a long time," she replied. "I wish I could do something for him, but there doesn't seem to be much I can do. He doesn't seem to want to even try to find happiness."

"Poor guy," I said sympathetically. "Your mother's death really _did _hit him hard."

"Oh, I know…" Melissa sighed. "It has to be really hard on him, he has to be both my father _and _my mother. At the same time!"

"Maybe he'll find somebody someday?" I did think it would do Mike a lot of good to find love again.

"I'd like to hope so," she said hopefully.

We walked for a while, and then Melissa asked, "So, Ralph, what do you have in mind for tonight?"

"Oh, we're going out to dinner, remember?" I did tell her that over the phone.

"Oh, that's right, I remember. That's really nice of you. So where are we going?"

"Lassater's, I guess. I'd go somewhere nicer, but uh, there sort of _isn't _anything nicer."

"Fair enough," she replied.

* * *

><p>Soon we got to Lassater's. It was full up of couples eating out together for Valentine's.<p>

"What do you want, Melissa? It's on me." I knew that was the gentlemanly thing to do.

"It doesn't really matter, Ralph. I'll see what they've got. Maybe some pasta would be nice. Oh, by the way, that's very nice of you to pay for my dinner." She grinned at me. "One of my old boyfriends back when I was in high school insisted that I was the one who had to pay for dinner! He made _me_ pay for his dinner, can you believe that?"

"Huh. What a guy he must have been." He didn't sound like a nice guy at all.

"You have no idea, Ralph. He never cared about me at all! All he cared about was how much money he could save. You're _much _better than he ever was." She winked at me.

We soon got our meal and sat down to eat. Mr. Lassater came out.

"Hey, if it isn't my favorite employee!" He laughed. "Ah, Ralph. I see you've got yourself a little girlfriend with you, have you not?"

"Sure do, sir. I'm taking her to the dance tonight." I grinned sheepishly.

"Well, well, good on you, Ralph. Ah," he said to Melissa. "You're the guy who owns that bar's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Lassater, sir. That's my dad. It's nice meeting you." Melissa smiled.

"Nice making your acquaintance, too. Well, Ralph, good luck," he winked at me. "See ya at work Monday."

"I'll be seeing you there," I replied as he went back behind the counter.

While Melissa and I were having our dinner, we made some more small conversation.

"So, Melissa," I asked her, "did you see that…one movie that came out a couple years ago?" Dammit, the name slipped my mind at the moment.

"What movie would that be?" She was curious.

"Uh, hold on, let me think of the name…" I thought for a bit, then it came to me. "Oh, I remember. _Airplane_. Did you see that one?" That particular movie had come out the summer right after Cedric, Bert and I had graduated from high school, it came out while I was depressed from my Uncle Rocky disowning me as his nephew. Bert took me to it to cheer me up and told me it would be hilarious. I doubted it _very _much, especially since this was a movie about an airplane (since I was very scared of them), but in the end, Bert was right. It was one of the funniest movies I'd ever seen and it really did put me in a better mood. What I thought was funniest about it was how the whole thing was completely making fun of disaster movies, and yet the actors kept straight faces while delivering their lines. It had its fair share of crude humor, but then again, what comedy _doesn't _have some crude humor?

Melissa laughed. "Oh, that movie," she said, giggling. "Oh yes, I remember seeing that one. It was right after I moved here. My dad took me to it."

"Remember Leslie Shearsen in it?" Leslie Shearsen had stolen the show in that movie, he had definitely been the funniest character in the whole movie. It was very odd seeing him in a comedic role, considering virtually every movie I'd ever seen him in had him playing a serious or a dramatic role, but, he managed to pull it off. Really though, almost _all _the actors in that movies had been known for their serious roles.

"Oh, do I ever!" She laughed, and tried to imitate him. "I am serious…and don't call me Shirley." We both laughed.

I also tried my hardest to imitate Leslie's dead-pan serious tone. "I just wanted to tell you both, good luck. We're all counting on you. Oh wait, that sounded terrible…" I sighed. I was never very good at voice impersonations.

"It's not that bad, Ralph. Did you know I also considered taking up a career in acting? I used to take part in quite a few plays during school." I didn't know that; I was a little impressed.

"Wow. You must have been pretty good," I said lowly.

"I liked it, but it wasn't the career for me. Say, I could teach you how to be better at acting." She winked.

"That would be very nice," I smiled.

* * *

><p>Soon we were done with our dinner. I paid for both mine and Melissa's dinners, and then it was off to Lady Baden-Baden's residence for the big dance.<p>

"Melissa, I hope you don't mind the fact I can't dance well…" I honestly could not, I often tripped over my own two feet. I knew I would embarrass myself.

"Oh, Ralph, don't worry," she said, reassuringly. "You'll be fine. As long as you have fun, it doesn't matter, remember?"

"I suppose so," I replied, though not terribly sure.

Soon everyone was gathered at her mansion. There were many couples there, a few people I recognized. Some around our age, some considerably older. I guessed there were maybe 200 people here.

"This is going to be fun," I said.

"You said it, Ralph!" Melissa laughed.

Soon enough, Lady Baden-Baden stepped up onto the makeshift stage and took the microphone.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and may I personally welcome to my first annual Valentine's Day Ball. I hope all of you will have a wonderful time tonight with the ones you love and care about. Now, if I may, allow me to introduce our musical act for tonight's Ball, Bert Raccoon and his Flying Aces!" I laughed at Bert's choice for a band name.

"Hehheh. Flying aces." I chuckled.

"I can't wait to see what they're going to play," Melissa smiled.

The curtain lifted back as Lady Baden-Baden stepped off the stage. Sure enough, there was Bert, with his guitar plugged in to his amplifier. Carl Waters, Bert's old duck friend, was on piano, Don Davis, a kangaroo, had his rhythm guitar, Mark Miller, a goat, was on bass, and Clancy Rogers, a beaver, was on drums.

"So," I laughed. "This is the group that is going to take the world by storm. Bert Raccoon and his Flying Aces."

Melissa chuckled as well. "I'm sure they won't be that bad, Ralph."

"You never can tell with Bert," I said warily.

Bert stepped up to the microphone and spoke to the crowd.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! It's lovely to be here, as we will be playing here tonight some love songs of the past two decades you may or may not remember. We hope you'll enjoy our show, this is sort of our first gig together. Who knows where we may go from here?" He laughed. "But anyways, enough about ourselves, we'd like to start off with a song that was popular just a few years ago, from the smash hit band, Vacation."

"Ralph, this is it. Are you ready?" Melissa smiled at me.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I never cared much for Vacation, I had always thought of them as being something of…well….a chick band.

Carl started off on his piano and he sang.

"_Opened my eyes to a new kind of way_

_All the good times that you saved_

_Are you feeling?_

_You feeling that way too?_

_Or am I just_

_Am I just your fool?_"

Melissa and I were dancing with each other, slowly.

Then Bert came in on his guitar and he took over.

"_When the summer's gone, she'll be there_

_Standing by the light_

_Once she's been to where she's gone to_

_She should know wrong from right_."

Bert and Carl took turns trading vocals on this song.

Melissa smiled at me.

"Oh, Ralph, I love this song," she laughed.

"Really?" I asked.

"I sure do! That Steve Ferret's quite a singer, you know!" Steve Ferret was the main vocalist in Vacation.

"I never cared much for that band, but this isn't so bad," I smiled, as we danced together.

Soon that song ended, and the band played several more songs. A few Beetles, a few of King's songs, a couple of Elton Brawn songs, and a few others. Bert and Carl sang most of the songs (I was surprised-Carl had quite a good deep singing voice), but Don sang a couple of the songs. The ones he sang were very unmemorable, though-he had quite a whiny voice, to be honest.

Melissa and I were sitting down having a drink together.

"So, Ralph. Are you having fun?" she asked me.

"More fun than I've had in the longest time," I laughed.

Carl spoke into the microphone. "Thank you, thank you very much. We'd like to apologize for our drummer-that's Clancy, here-our drummer's behavior during that last song." Clancy had played rather furiously on the last song they'd done. "A real monster, this guy is. Can't really help it though-he dropped out of his high chair onto his head when he was a little sprout." Carl took a drink of water and continued. "Not really his fault. But quite a character, he is." Clancy waved to all of us.

"What's going on?" Melissa said, confused by what Carl was saying to the crowd in between songs.

"That's Carl," I said. "I went to high school with him, he always had the oddest sense of humor." I realized Carl was trying to be funny-as far as I knew, Clancy had never hit his head when he was a child.

"Oh," Melissa replied.

Carl continued. "Ah, a bit of a funny story, really. Like I said, he dropped onto his head when he was small. We-that being the four of us besides him-we, while we were rehearsing for this dance, we'd, uh, we occasionally clipped off his claws and smoked 'em. You know, like that." He took another drink of water. "Quite something-don't knock it until you try it."

Some of the audience laughed while others (including Melissa) looked quite confused.

"What on earth is he talking about?" she asked me.

"I have no clue. Carl was always like that in high school. I don't mean to sound rude, but I've always suspected he was a few marbles short of the whole bag."

"I think I can see that," Melissa mused.

"Now, ah, anyways, on to our next number," Carl said. "This is, ah, a little number written right here by Bert himself and a good friend of his. Went to high school with him, name of Ralph, I believe. He was a pretty good kid-always writing poetry. I believe the two of them live together currently. But, ah, anyways, we'd like to play this little ballad called, ah, '_All Life Long_.'"

Melissa and I got up. "Wow, Ralph," she said, sounding pretty impressed. "I didn't know you wrote songs."

"I do sometimes-Bert writes the chorus and I write the verses. He asked me to help him with that."

"This should be interesting," she replied.

Sure enough, Carl began on his piano singing in that deep voice of his. Bert began strumming his acoustic.

"_We would stand on Saturday nights_

_The boys 'n' me in line_

_Fighting for a chance to dance with you.._"

Then Don took over singing. I was surprised Bert wasn't singing on this one, considering he'd co-written it.

"_I can still remember_

_The look upon your face_

_You were so surprised_

_That I told you..._"

The whole band began signing as Clancy began bashing his drums and Mark began wailing away at his bass.

"_All life long, I knew it was forever!_

_All life long, I knew we couldn't stop!_

_All life long, I knew it was forever!_

_All life long!_"

Melissa spoke to me as we danced. "Cute little song you wrote there, Ralph..."

"Yeah," I replied. "I don't remember when I wrote this. I think this was my attempt to write a romantic pop song..."

"Not bad at all," she complimented me.

"Thanks," I replied.

They played several more songs, and now they were down to their last two songs. We'd been here about two and a half hours.

Bert spoke into the microphone this time. "This next number we'd like to play, is a very old R&B number that was a hit many years ago when I was just a kit. I'm certain that the older folks here will remember this one."

"Oh, I do," Carl said. "First song I ever learned on piano. Winter of 1969. I was eight years old..."

Bert interrupted him. "As I said, this is an old song. This is a slow one." I wondered what song that could be.

Bert then began singing in a rather despairing tone.

"_We've already said…_

_Goodbye_

_Since you gotta go_

_Oh, you'd better go now!_

_Go now! Go now!_

_Before you see me cry…_"

Oh God, not this song. I suddenly found my eyes starting to tear up. This was a very old song, one of the Moody Newts' very first songs. It was one of the saddest songs I'd ever heard in my life. I loved this song, and yet, at the same time, I hated this song as well. I'm sure you know what I mean, you've all probably known a song you felt that way about.

Melissa noticed while we were slow dancing together. "Ralph? Are you crying? What's wrong?"

I sniffed. "Oh, it's nothing, nothing, Melissa. It's just…I hate this song so much…"

"You do?" She asked.

"Yes, it reminds me of my childhood days. They were not very happy…"

"Aw, I'm sorry, Ralph. But those days are behind you now! Think about that." She smiled.

"You're right," I said. The future would have much better days, I felt.

Bert finished with this number.

"_I don't wanna see you go_

_But darling, you'd better GO NOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!_"

We all applauded him.

"Thank you very much," he said to us. I realized he hadn't played that Steel Airship song yet that he had managed to get onto the setlist, I realized that that was the last song he was going to play. Oh boy. This would be ear-shredding.

"Anyways," Bert said, chuckling into the microphone, "this next song is our last song for tonight, and it's a very special one. It's quite the song of love, if you know what I mean. This last song, I am dedicating it to a very close friend of mine, one who's here tonight with a girl he fancies very much. I sure hope the both of them are having a good time. I dedicate this song to the both of them."

I smiled a bit. Even if this would be an ear-shredding heavy metallic monster, it was a very nice gesture of Bert to dedicate a song to the two of us.

Melissa smiled. "Bert sure is a good friend to dedicate a song he's performing to you!"

"I know," I said. "Too bad it had to be a Steel Airship song..."

"I take it you don't like them," Melissa concluded.

"Not one bit," I admitted, "I can't stand their music at all."

"They're not that bad," she said. "Their singer was pretty good. I never listened to them much but I thought they had some good songs."

"We'll see..." I said, lowly.

"Alright, here we go." Bert said as they got started.

"_And if I say to you tomorrow_

_Take my hand, child, come with me_

_It's to a castle I will take you_

_Where what's to be they say will be..._"

I was totally surprised. This sounded nothing like the Steel Airship I heard Bert trying to play all the time. This was actually a mostly soft and sweet romantic number. I was impressed. They really _did _have lighter material. I suddenly found myself gaining respect for that band I thought I would never give them. Admittedly, it did have a few heavy parts to it (not to mention that at the end Bert _did_ scream his head off), but it was still a nice song.

Melissa smiled as the two of us danced to it. "This is quite a cute song, Ralph," she giggled.

"I'll say. I never thought that Steel Airship could write anything like that."

"It could be our song, don't you think so?" I could tell she was already contemplating our future.

"Perhaps so."

Soon, Bert finished and drew a big round of applause from the crowd.

"Thank you, thank you very much!" Bert said, bowing before the crowd. "You've all been a lovely audience tonight and I hope that each and every one of you has enjoyed yourselves. But…" Bert started laughing to himself. "That wasn't our last number."

I saw Lady Baden-Baden coming towards the stage. "What? That was supposed to be his last song…"

Bert continued. "We'd like to take this opportunity to show you what we think rock and roll _really _is supposed to be." He laughed heartily as he looked to his band.

"Ready, guys?" He said to them.

"Ready!" they all chuckled.

"Let's burn this joint down," I heard Carl laugh.

"Alright, here we go!" Bert immediately started playing this incredibly sleazy sounding guitar melody and the whole band joined in. I recognized it immediately-it was a song that had come out when Cedric, Bert, and I were about 11 or 12. It was an extremely sleazy sounding song that had some incredibly…"manly" lyrics, if I must say.

"_In the morning_

_Don't say you love me_

'_Cause I'll only kick you out the door!_

_I know your name's Rita_

'_Cause your perfume's smelling sweeter_

_Than when I saw you down on the floor!_"

Melissa shook her head. "That Bert," she said. "I don't know about him."

"What can I say?" I said plainly. "He told me he was going to do something like this, and he wasn't kidding. Just another of his antics."

"Such an inappropriate song..." Melissa said, plainly.

"Oh boy, I know. Should have figured he'd do this..."

"Ralph, I think we should go. What do you think?" Melissa looked eager to leave.

"I think so too." As we both went to leave, we saw Lady Baden-Baden pulling the plug on Bert's amplifier, ending his rebellious performance.

* * *

><p>I was preparing to take Melissa home when she spoke to me. "Ralph, aren't you forgetting something?"<p>

"What's that?" I asked.

"They're going to be launching fireworks off tonight. For all the couples of the Evergreen Forest. I'd like to see that." She smiled and turned to me. "What about you?"

"Sure, it'll be a nice display," I replied. "We can go down to the old dock by Evergreen Lake. We'll be able to get a good view of it there."

We soon made our way to the old dock. This was where Melissa had gone fishing with Bert and myself this past summer. The lake was frozen over (since it was winter), but it still was a nice spot, even though it was quite cold out.

We sat down together as we both put our arms around each other.

"They should be launching them off any minute now," Melissa said.

"Should be quite a sight." I muttered.

Soon enough the fireworks started being launched. They were quite a dazzling sight, if I may say so myself. Melissa was awestruck.

"Look at them, Ralph! Aren't they beautiful?" She nudged me.

"They're definitely a spectacular sight, I'll say that much." Melissa rested her head on my shoulder.

"I love fireworks, don't you?"

"Sure, they're pretty nice," I admitted.

She looked me in the eyes and smiled at me.

I spoke to her.

"Melissa, thank you for going to this dance with me. I was worried you wouldn't want to after what I said a few weeks ago…"

"It's no problem, Ralph, I had a lovely time. I haven't had this much fun in a long time. Probably been a few years. What more could I possibly ask for?"

"I'm just glad you didn't go with Arnold," I said, lowly.

"Arnold? Hah, I would never go with him. He was just a little too cocky. Not to mention, I figured out before you went through that whole...motorcycle...thing that he'd beaten you up, that was why you were trying to avoid me. I couldn't possibly say yes to him."

"I hope we'll never see him again," I laughed.

"Who knows?"

"I can't believe it's only been a little less than a year since we've met," I smiled. "I felt like we've known each other our whole lives."

"I know exactly what you mean," she agreed.

"I owe so much to you. If it weren't for you, I'd have been killed on that camping trip we had. You saved my life, remember?"

Melissa nodded. "How could I ever forget, Ralph?'

"Before I met you, I always had troubles with girls. I could never seem to find the right one. I couldn't get up the courage to talk to them, I was much too shy. But ever since I met you, that's all changed." I laughed.

"I know, Ralph! You were pretty shy when I first met you. Now look at you. You're still a little shy, but you're growing a lot more confident in yourself. I guess I made a really big impact on your life," she chuckled. "But I know what you mean. I had a few boyfriends throughout high school, but they were never like you. They were always so cocky and full of themselves, I grew tired of them. I thought it'd be years before I found the right one."

I blushed heavily as I spoke to her. "Melissa?"

"Yes, Ralph?"

"I love you, Melissa Mulligan." I just felt that it would mean a lot to hear that from me in person.

Melissa looked touched. "Oh, Ralph," she giggled, also turning red. "I pretty much already knew that...but, still. That really means a lot to me. I love you too, Ralph Raccoon."

I'd had the hunch for the longest time she did, now I knew for sure.

We both found ourselves gazing into each other's eyes.

"Ralph…" Melissa said, in a dreamy tone of voice.

"Yes, Melissa?"

I found her leaning in closer to me.

I leaned in too as our lips touched. My first kiss. It was everything I'd hoped it would be and then some.

No, scratch that. _Our _first kiss. The first of many.

I knew, right then and there, deep within my heart, we'd be together for a long time to come.

**END CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Wow, that was another very long chapter. Sorry, I get a little bit into it. So now, Ralph and Melissa are officially together. It took them the majority of the story, but at last they are together as a couple. And of course, Bert continues his mischievous behavior.

I believe I have the Canadian football season all wrong, but I wanted to include that part as I thought it would be funny...

All the songs you see played at the dance are real songs. They are, as follows, in order: _Feeling That Way_ by Journey (written by Aynsley Dunbar, Steve Perry (I renamed him Steve Ferret), and Gregg Rolie, from the 1978 album _Infinity_), _All Life Long_, one of the songs used on the show itself (presumably written by the show's staff),_ Go Now_, an old R&B number covered by the Moody Blues (written by Larry Banks and Milton Bennett, from the 1965 album _The Magnificent Moodies_, it really is one of the saddest songs I've ever heard (truthfully I'm not sure how appropriate this song is for dance, probably not very). Also, the singer on this song, Denny Laine, actually sounds a little bit like Bert, to me at least!), _What Is And What Should Never Be_ by Led Zeppelin (written by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, from the 1969 album _Led Zeppelin II_, it's one of my favorite Led Zeppelin songs. Not sure why I picked as the song Bert dedicated to Ralph and Melissa, though...), and _Stay With Me _by the Faces (written by Rod Stewart and Ron Wood, from the 1972 album _A Nod Is As Good As A Wink…To A Blind Horse_-needless to say, it is indeed a very…raunchy song). I do not own the rights to any of these lyrics, they all belong to their respective copyright holders.

Leslie Shearsen is, of course, a Raccoons version of the late, great Leslie Nielsen (who just recently passed away), one of the greatest actors of all time (in my opinion, your mileage may vary). I will never forget him for his roles in _Airplane _and _The Naked Gun _series, my second favorite film series of all time (behind Austin Powers).

Oxnard Montalvo and Toluca Lake, the B-movie stars, come from an old Nickelodeon cartoon, a favorite of mine called the _Angry Beavers_. In case you haven't seen it, it's a cartoon about two beaver brothers named Norbert and Daggett who live together and are different as night and day (Norbert being the more level-headed and laid-back one, Daggett being the more chaotic and crazy one); chaos ensues as a result. The both of them are fans of these terrible B-movies; so much so that in one episode they actually _made_ one. They are just as bad as the one presented here in this fanfic; movies include _The Crawling Spleen _and _The Attack Of The Giant Viking Women From Venus_. I just had to reference the _Angry Beavers_ in here…

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There are only three more chapters left, and one is an epilogue, so, technically, there are just two more chapters. Almost done!

As always, read and review.


	14. Chapter 14: Passing The Time

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, this fanfic is getting close to the end. Only three more chapters and an epilogue to go (well, technically two more chapters, an epilogue, and a character list, since I want to make one for this story-and yes, every single character appearing in this story will be listed, in order of importance-I'm weird like that). Only perhaps 35,000 words to go.

So now, Ralph and Melissa are officially together, and this chapter will feature their relationship over the years, as well as Arnold Layne's last hurrah (I figure I need to show him one more time within this story, despisable a character as he is). This chapter does jump a couple years mainly because I think it would be a bore to write about everything that happened over the next couple years. (I do apoligize if that feels like a cop-out on my part, but truthfully, I didn't really want to write about all the events of two years, so I just briefly had Ralph summarize them.)

So now, we move onto, for one of the last times in this story…

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the rights to the Raccoons…Dear god, I have written that FOURTEEN times now within the past couple months. But as always, I'm going to use this as a place for an inspirational quote or a question/opinion of mine to pose to the reader._

_So, since last chapter featured an opinion, this chapter will feature a quote. Let me see if I can find one…ah, here we go. "__Just when I discovered the meaning of life, they changed it." Another quote from the late, great legendary comedian George Carlin. George Carlin was one of the most intelligent people I think this planet has ever seen and will ever see. I seriously think of him as more of a philosopher than a comedian, to be honest._

_But anyways, we now continue with…_

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Passing The Time**

It was close to midnight when I brought Melissa back home. Her father was still out tending to his bar, the loneliest place in the entire Forest.

"Ralph, tonight was wonderful!" Melissa was beaming as she opened the door.

"You definitely said it," I laughed. She was right. "I'll never forget this night all my life."

"Me neither," she said. "So, Ralph, when's our next…date? Do you have a free day?'

I was already looking forward to this. "How's about…hmmm…" I thought to myself. I was free Wednesday afternoon. "How about Wednesday? We could go see a movie, if you'd like."

Melissa nodded. "That sounds like a great idea. I'd love to!"

I smiled. "Sure thing. I'll pick you up at 7:30, how's that sound?"

Melissa smiled as well. "That's fine, I'm already looking forward to it." She winked.

"Well, I think I should be going now, Melissa," I said. Tonight really _had _been quite the night. "I'll see you Wednesday."

"Ralph…" Melissa said with that same dreamy look in her eyes.

"Well, alright." I leaned in and we kissed each other again.

"Bye, Ralph. See you Wednesday!" she waved.

"See you then," I replied eagerly as I waved back.

I'd never felt better in my whole life. I had done something I had thought all throughout high school and much of my first two years of college that I'd never do: I'd gotten the girl. I felt like I was practically floating as I made my way home.

* * *

><p>When I got home, I found it rather odd Bert hadn't gotten back to the Raccoondominium yet. He should have been home by now. Where could he be off to? Perhaps he was out chasing tail…again?<p>

That seemed like the likely thing, so I decided to go get ready for bed. Bert would show up whenever he did. I would tell him all about my night in the morning when he would surely get back.

I was already brushing my teeth when I heard the phone ringing.

"Hold on…" I shouted as I dropped my toothbrush and dashed down the stairs. I wondered who could it be. Was it Mike Mulligan, asking how our date went?

No. It was Bert.

"Hey, Ralphie boy! How are ya?" he said, laughing.

"Bert? Where in the world are you off to now?"

Bert laughed again as he spoke to me. "Ralph, you'll never guess what happened to me!"

I wondered. "What happened, Bert? Did you…'score' with a bunch of girls?"

Bert laughed even harder. "No, even better! I got arrested!"

What? Bert had been arrested? What the hell did he do? Well, he had been rebellious at the dance by playing a raunchy song at the end of his performance, but they wouldn't lock him up for that…would they?

"Arrested? Bert, what the hell did you do? How did you get arrested?"

"It's not just me, Ralph, it's the whole band! We got arrested for disturbing the peace! Wow, I can't believe it! My first on-stage arrest, can you believe it? I really _am _destined to become a rock star!" So Lady Baden-Baden _did _call the cops on Bert and his band for that. Bert sounded pretty excited to be locked up, I wasn't. That meant I'd have to use my money to bail him out.

"So you used your phone call to call me up to tell me this?"

"That's right," he said sheepishly. "Can you bail me out? I don't want to spend too long in here…"

"Bert, I think you might need to spend the night there and calm down. I'll, uh, I'll bail you out in the morning." I didn't feel like going down there to get him out now. He really did sound like he needed to calm down.

"But, but, I'm scared to spend the night in jail…" Bert had heard the rumors about prison and was no doubt more than a little bit afraid. He had gone from being excited about being arrested like countless numbers of his heroes to scared. "Besides, I'm locked up in a cell with Carl. No offense, but this guy's off his rocker!" I could hear Carl Waters babbling about something or other in the distance-I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Bert, it'll be fine. I'll be there bright and early in the morning," I said, trying to reassure him.

"Gee, I sure hope so…" Bert didn't sound so reassured. "I have to go, Ralph, the warden is staring at me and telling me to wrap this conversation up. You'll tell me how your little date with Melissa went when you bail me out, right?"

"Uh, sure thing. I'll be there in the morning, like I said. See you, and oh by the way…" I laughed as I thought of something that might put some fear of prison into his head. "Don't drop the soap, Bert."

"Ulp!" Bert gulped as he hung up the phone. That _definitely _scared him. I didn't think it would really happen, but you never knew with prisons…

I found myself actually having trouble sleeping that night. But not because I was bothered by anything. I was finding myself thinking about the events of the past week. Challenging Arnold Layne. Practicing with Keith Tippett. Losing at the motorcycle competition. Getting back into Melissa's good graces. But most of all, I was thinking about this whole night. I had been a little nervous before I went as I was afraid, knowing my track record with girls, I would screw up and drive Melissa off just like virtually every other girl before. But I didn't! Tonight had been completely perfect. I finally had a real girlfriend; life could only go uphill from here. Those traumatic childhood days would all be in the past now.

I fell asleep that night with the biggest smile on my face.

* * *

><p>Next morning, I awoke at 7 AM (I didn't get much sleep) so I could go bail Bert out of jail. If only he hadn't have been so rebellious…<p>

It was still dark out when I got there. Since crime was not common (outside of the corrupt, businessman kind, which rarely was punished), there were a low number of inmates. Bert and the rest of his band were among the 30 inmates or so.

I paid Bert's bail when I got there (there went some of my hard-earned cash from Lassater's) and they let him out.

"Hey, Ralphie! Good to see you! Thanks for getting me outta here, I thought you'd never come!" He sounded quite thankful; he must not have had a good night in jail.

"Well, you only have yourself to blame," I said, scolding him. "If you hadn't been a rebel and played your 'idea' of what rock and roll is, you wouldn't have been locked up."

"Hey, I thought it was a good idea," he laughed as we left the prison. "What'd you think?"

"Not too impressive," I honestly admitted.

"That's because you don't know what rock and roll is," Bert laughed as we walked through the forest. "_That_, my friend, was what rock and roll is." He grinned his trademark goofy grin.

"If you say so," I said flatly, as we made our way back to the Raccoondominium.

We continued our conversation when we got there.

"Do you regret doing that now, Bert?" I asked.

"Not at all, in fact, if I could do it all over again, I'd do the same thing!" He laughed. "I'm like my heroes now! All of my rock heroes have an arrest record." I didn't see how he could be proud of that. And personally, I didn't think Bert had the best taste in heroes. Oxnard Montalvo, Homer Pidgeon, Tom Sneva, Giles Villeneuve, Jimmy Crane, Woodchuck Berry...left a LOT to be desired.

"That's something to be proud of?" I asked, dubiously.

"Sure is," he laughed. "It's another step on my path to fame and glory!" He was already thinking about his future.

"I'm sure," I said, still doubting he would find the success he claimed he would.

"You'll see, Ralphie, you'll see. Anyways, if I may ask, how did your little date go with Melissa?" He grinned cheekily.

For once, I wasn't embarrassed. I proudly responded: "It was great, Bert. Really, it was! I never had such a good time in all my life."

"Well, that's good, Ralph!" Bert patted me on the back. "I knew you two would have a great time. So, what'd ya think of that little song I dedicated to you?" He laughed, remembering it.

"It was very nice. Melissa thought it was cute, too. She said you were one hell of a friend to dedicate a song to me."

"I sure am, aren't I?" Bert winked.

That did make me laugh. "You sure are, Bert, you sure are."

Bert smiled. "So, are you and Melissa together now?" He was eager to hear the answer to that question.

I nodded. "Yes, yes, we are. We decided we'd give it a shot and see how it all turns out. We've got a date this Wednesday night."

Bert held out his paw. "High-five, Ralph!" I did exactly that. Bert was proud of me, and he had good reason to me. I was pretty damned proud of myself too.

He grinned. "It's about damn time. I've been getting sick and tired of seeing you moping over her." He laughed again.

"Boy, I did that a _lot_," I chuckled.

"I mean, c'mon. Everybody could see you two had something for each other big time."

"Was it really _that_ obvious?" I wondered.

"Oh yeah," Bert said, goofily. "It was WAY too obvious."

* * *

><p>The next day, after my classes at college (I got a perfect score on my big paper, which I was very proud of), I dropped by my parents' place. I figured I'd tell the both of them the news.<p>

"Hello, Ralphie," my mother said as she greeted me. "How've you been?"

"Great, Mom," I replied.

"Hey, sonny boy, fancy seeing you here again!" My dad was lying back in his reclining chair, already drinking beer and eating pork rinds. He'd presumably been home from work just an hour or so, and he was already drinking. Not too surprising.

"I just thought I'd drop by, Dad."

"Well, what's up there, boy? Not like ya to visit us twice in a week. Something up there, kiddo?"

"I have some news to tell the both of you," I said, enthusiastically.

"Really?" My mother came out of the kitchen and stood before me.

"I sure do."

"Oh, this better be good," my dad said, already losing focus and starting to glare at the TV again.

"Mom, Dad, I have a girlfriend." Mom looked happy for me.

"Really, Ralphie? That's wonderful!" She hugged me. "My little Ralphie is growing up so fast…"

"Really, now? Who is it, boy? Is she rich?" My father secretly hoped I'd date and marry a rich girl so he could get some money out of it.

"Not really, Dad…" I laughed a bit.

My dad tried again. "Hmm…Is she quite the looker?" He winked at me.

"By my books, yes," I replied. I did think Melissa was beautiful, in my eyes, at least.

My father rubbed his chin. "Mmm…oh, I know! Is it Mike's daughter?"

"Yes, that's who I'm dating now," I smiled.

My mother smiled back at me. "Melissa Mulligan? Aw, Ralphie, Melissa's a real sweetheart. I remember when you brought her over here last week. She seems to be quite a nice girl, I'm sure you two'll make a cute pair."

"Thanks, Mom. I sure hope we manage to last."

My dad congratulated me. "Hey! About damn time you got a girlfriend, my boy! Damn, I was beginning to think something was wrong with you!" He laughed rather heartily.

"Gee, thanks, Dad." I frowned. My dad had always thought I was a little weird.

"I was wondering when you two would start going steady. I mean, she seriously had the hots for ya, boy," my father laughed.

"Well, I know that now," I chuckled as well.

"Come here, son!" My father pointed to the couch. "I've been saving this for when this day came." I figured he had quite an…interesting speech to give to me.

I sat down on the couch next to the recliner and looked at him.

"Alright, now, what do you want to speak about, Dad?" My dad sipped his beer and opened his mouth.

"Well, son, now that you have a girlfriend, I just felt I needed to tell you your wild days of girl chasing will have to come to an end. It was fun while it lasted, but you can't do that anymore. Girls don't like that at all son, they don't want you chasing other women."

Where did my dad get the idea I was constantly chasing tail? "Uh, Dad, I've never been one to go out and chase women. I'm not really wild at all. Really, the idea of settling down seems pretty nice to me."

My dad laughed. "Really? Well, that's not what Bert told me! Bert's told me all about your escapades!" He laughed even harder. "Just like your old man, kid!" I groaned. Bert had actually told my father that I was a wild raccoon trying to score with lots of women.

"And you trust Bert?" I said incredulously.

"I have no reason not to kid, he's your best friend. Do ya think he would lie to me?" My father, sometimes…

I just shook my head.

"Well, anyways, boy, here's some more good ol' advice from your dad. Be sure to remember all your dates and anniversaries, she is going to expect you to. Miss one, and you can expect her to chew you out big time! So don't ya dare forget, kid." I already knew that-why was my dad telling me stuff I already knew?

"Uh, Dad, I think that's a given…" I sighed. My dad was never the best with advice. The best advice he'd ever given me had been at Greg's House of Beer.

"Hey, who's the one who's married here?"

"You are…" I said.

"So that means I'm more of an expert in this subject than you are." He grinned. "I'm a love expert!"

"My dad, the love expert," I said, shaking my head.

"Anyways, son, one more thing, son," he whispered into my ear. "That stash of girlie magazines you've got?"

"...What?" I said aloud. What was Dad talking about? I didn't have a stash of smutty magazines, but I supposed my Dad was assuming that I'd never thrown out that stash he'd bought me for my birthday all those years ago. So he probably assumed I'd kept them and added to it over the years. He was quite wrong.

"You know, your stash? Well, you'd better hide it really well, I suggest locking it away where no one can find it!" he laughed. "I don't think your girlfriend's gonna like finding those!"

"Dad, I don't have a-" He interrupted me.

"Of course ya do, son! Every kid's got one."

I shrugged. "If you say so..."

"Oh yeah! One more thing son, I-" Suddenly, a commercial came on the black and white television. It was none other than an ad for Cyril Sneer's new brand of soda, Sneer Kola. Dad's attention was immediately diverted to the television.

The pigs were in the commercial and were holding up a soda can.

"OOH!" My dad said, excited. "I sure hope they do a song and dance number!" My dad had seen the one late-night show where they had the singing and dancing pigs.

"They work for Cyril Sneer, you know..." I muttered.

Lloyd spoke first. "Attention, dissatisfied consumers! Are you tired of plain old boring everyday soda?" Boyd and Floyd both drank from soda cans marked "GENERIC SOFT DRINK".

"BLEARRGHH!" they both said as they spat out their sodas.

"Well," Boyd spoke, "there's a new soft drink fresh on the market that can change your life!" He held up a can with the Sneer family logo on it marked "SNEER KOLA". "It has the most refreshing taste and the right amount of caffeine to brighten up your day!"

"So don't sit around drinking bland ordinary soda, try new and improved SNEER KOLA!" Floyd said excitedly. The TV began playing a silly jingle, sung by Cyril himself (and badly off-key, at that). A badly out of tune piano began playing on the TV.

"_Sneer Kola_

_The most wonderful soda_

_It's got a taste so great_

_It'll brighten up your day_

_So try_

_Sneer Kola_

_And you'll say_

'_I'll never drink anything else again!' _"

I was completely unimpressed by this commercial-the same could not be said for my dad. He looked almost hypnotized by the commercial.

"Mmm…soda," my dad said rearing his head back. "Must get…paws…on…Sneer Kola…aagggghhhhh…." He began drooling as he got up from his chair and hypnotically got his keys and headed for the door. That would be the end of our conversation.

"Millie, honey, I'm heading to Willow's Store to buy some of that new Sneer Kola," he called to my mother. "Be on the lookout, I'm coming home caffeinated!"

"Can you pick up some ice cream too?" My mother asked. "It seems we're all out after yesterday. I just bought some Saturday, where did it all go?"

"Eh, it was probably one of our kids. Probably Bert," my dad responded absent-mindedly.

I sighed as I left. "My dad, I just don't know about him…"

* * *

><p>The next day, I was getting ready for my date when Bert had an idea…<p>

"Hey, Ralphie!" he said, enthusiastically. "How's about I tag along on your date?"

What? He wanted to tag along? What the-? I couldn't believe what I'd just heard.

"You want to tag along…? Why, Bert? I'd much rather it just be Melissa and me, I don't really want someone else getting in the way…" That would be very awkward.

"I just want to make sure you do alright. You know, knowing you, you might screw up, I just wanna be there to make sure you don't do that." Ugh. What would Melissa think?

"We'll see what Melissa says about that," I said, hoping to get him to drop the subject.

"Alright, then." Bert shrugged.

"Just remember, Ralph, if there's a kiss going on in the movie, you're supposed to kiss her, too…" he said to himself.

"Bert, knock it off right now," I said. Bert was trying to give me dating advice; I didn't really want to hear it right now. It was certainly delightfully ironic years later when he asked _me _for dating advice with Lisa, that's for sure…

"Heh, heh, I'll be good!" He said, looking at the ground nervously.

Soon enough, Melissa arrived.

"Hello there, Ralph. Are you ready for our date?" she asked.

"Sure thing, Melissa. This should be a nice night at the movies."

"Hey, you two don't mind if I tag along, do ya?" Bert asked Melissa. She looked…surprised, to say the least.

"Bert, why would you want to do that?" she replied. "No offense, but this is _our _date. I think the two of us would prefer to be alone."

"I just wanna see how the two of ya make out," he said sheepishly. "Plus, I'd like to see what they've got there. Maybe they might have a masterpiece there that I'd never know about."

"Are you sure, Bert…?" Melissa didn't seem too eager to have him accompany us.

"Oh, I'm positive!" he laughed.

Melissa sighed. "Fine, Bert, I suppose you can come along too. But, please, try not to cause any trouble?" I just knew Bert would act up in the theater.

"Oh, you can count on me to be on my best behavior!" He grinned.

"Oh boy," I said to myself.

"And one more thing, Bert, if you don't mind: would you be kind enough to give us some space?" Bert looked at her and laughed.

"Ah, trying to get cozy, eh?"

I sighed. "This won't end well…" I said to myself.

"No, Bert, but perhaps Ralph and I might want some alone time," Melissa replied.

"Ah, say no more. I'll be out of your fur, no problem!"

I very much doubted that.

Surprisingly, the date didn't go too badly. I let Melissa pick out what movie we would see (the gentlemanly thing to do), and Bert decided to follow us there. He sat a fair distance away from us. I don't even remember what the movie was (it was some romantic comedy, I can't even remember much about it). Bert ended up talking through most of the movie, prompting one of our fellow movie-goers to shout, "Hey, shut the hell up and watch the damn movie!" Needless to say, we _did _kiss during the movie (that much I do remember) and what I can remember is Bert cheering me on ("Go for it, Ralph! Go for it!") and the same guy who yelled at Bert to shout, "Hey, you two go get a room! This isn't a hotel!" Despite all this, it still was a nice evening. We soon all got back to the Raccoondominium.

"Well, Ralph, I had a good time. How about you?"

"Same here," I smiled. "Looking forward to doing that again."

"I saw you following my advice, heh heh," Bert chuckled. "See, follow my advice and you'll have no troubles with this at all!"

"Bert, remind me to tell you to never tag along with us on a date again," I growled at him.

"Oh, I really didn't mind," Melissa said calmly. "Well…except for him talking through the whole thing. He still wasn't that big a problem, though."

"Ah, but still. It'd be nice not having him around," I replied.

"Hey, I can tag along if I want," Bert grinned. "I got a nice big bucket of popcorn and I snuck some peanut butter into the theatre, what more could I ask for?"

"You and your peanut butter…" I sighed.

"Well, I'll be seeing you, Ralph," Melissa said as she got ready to go home. Mike had told her to get back before 10:30, as otherwise he said he would assume that we were…well, being intimate with each other and he would hunt me down and shove my head all the way up my rear end. He was a little wary of me dating her.

"See you, Melissa. When's the next day you're free?"

"Oh, how's about Saturday? We could go bowling together." She smiled. I was no good at bowling, but it would still be fun. (Surprisingly, my dad was actually pretty good at the sport...he'd almost bowled a perfect game once! He came up four pins shy.)

"That sounds like a nice idea. See you Saturday then," I said, as she hugged me goodbye.

"Later," she waved as she left.

Bert chuckled. "I know who's tagging along already, heh-heh-heh!"

I groaned. "Oh no…"

* * *

><p>Time passed. Melissa and I continued to go out with each other. Mike was still wary of me at first (Melissa told me he'd been the same with every other boyfriend she'd had), but he eventually softened up and grew to embrace the fact I was dating his daughter. He still continued to warn me, though, that if he found Melissa and I had participated in the joys of lovemaking, he would bloodily massacre me. As he'd told me, "if you want to do that, kid, you'll have to marry her first!" Needless to say, I decided it was…not a good idea to try that.<p>

We had all sorts of good times together. We went fishing, we went to movies, we had dinner together, we went bowling, we did all sorts of stuff together. Through it all our relationship became stronger and stronger, until we were extremely close to each other. Bert still continued to tag along on our dates, as much as we both wished he wouldn't. The best times we had were when he wasn't around, that _was_ for sure.

Along the way, in her last year of college (and mine and Bert's third year), Melissa joined the staff of the _Evergreen University Chronicle_. Our regular photographer, Toby Peck, abruptly had a nervous breakdown and suddenly dropped out of college to instead seek psychiatric treatment. I really have no clue what happened to him; I suspect he may have had a bad reaction to some drugs he had taken. Somebody probably slipped something into his drink. I volunteered for Melissa to take his place. My fellow writers, Steve and Nestor, agreed, though at first they both chided me for it.

"Face it, Ralph," Steve said, "the only reason you're trying to get her on the staff is so you can spend more time with her." He snickered.

"Yeah, after all, she is your _girlfriend_," Nestor laughed.

"C'mon, guys, I've seen her photographs, she really is a good photographer. Much better than Toby ever was, Toby always was a little…eccentric. Give her a chance," I said earnestly to them.

"Well, alright. Show us some of her photos and she's on the staff," Nestor said.

"I'll do just that," I replied.

Melissa was soon on the staff and I always thought she had great photos for the paper. It was a shame more of our fellow students at Evergreen U didn't subscribe to the paper, I really felt they were missing out…

Our biggest moment working at the paper together was when we both found out Cyril Sneer was trying to bring a baseball stadium to the Forest so the Mudhens could move their training camp from Toronto to the Forest. Although it would be nice to have a baseball team in your own backyard, it wasn't right for the Forest, so we successfully exposed his plan in the paper. Needless to say, his deal fell through; his first of many run-ins with us.

While we both worked on the paper together, we also frequently studied together (okay, I'll admit: sometimes we studied and then made out, heh heh… I hope Melissa doesn't get mad I brought that up!) and helped each other with our assignments. Melissa was already looking forward to graduating.

Along the way, Bert began to change too. Out of the blue, he suddenly stopped going to parties and began actually doing his assignments ahead of time more often. (Though, he still required my help pretty often…) His steady stream of girlfriends suddenly came to a halt.

"Say, Bert," I asked him one day. "Why haven't you had any dates lately?" It was more than a little…unusual to see him not trying to…chase some tail. He'd already had about twenty-five girlfriends (I didn't keep track, that was my estimate) since high school, it seemed so unusual for him.

"Oh, heh, heh," he chuckled. "I figure I ought to stay out of the dating game for a little while. Seeing as you're doing a better job of it than me," he laughed.

"I wouldn't say that," I said.

"I would, you and Melissa have been together almost a full year now. You two are definitely going to last, I'll say that. I'll just enjoy my bachelor-dom while I can!"

"That's no reason not to try to find a date," I replied.

"Eh, I'll save it for when I'm a rock star. Then I'll have a whole bunch of groupies kissing my feet!" He laughed. Bert hadn't changed much-he still intended on being a rock star. He told us that soon after we graduated the next year, he would head out to Vancouver to try to get himself a recording contract. I wished him the best of luck with that, though I felt worried he would have incredible difficulty getting one. Plus, I would miss him a lot (whether I liked to admit it or not), I worried that when he left, I might never see him again.

Bert's music had changed again by this time-he'd dropped his heavy metal shtick and moved on to straight-up fur metal, which I personally thought was even worse. Still, he was passionate about it, though. By this time, he'd stopped working at Willow's Store and was raking in money from playing clubs and ballrooms around the local area (within a hundred mile radius or so) with his band, the Flying Aces. Surprisingly, the band stayed together after their on-stage arrest at the Valentine's Day Ball. However, Bert's sudden change in style would lead to animosity in the band...

Time passing meant new faces coming to the Forest and familiar old faces leaving. It seemed the Forest was actually losing more people than it was gaining. Keith Tippett, my riding coach for my...motorcycle escapade, had kept in touch with me since then, but in early 1983 he and his girlfriend Shirley moved away from the Forest due to the fact that Keith had gotten a job offer way down in San Francisco. I didn't know what exactly he was doing down there. Perhaps he had been assigned to run a professional motorcycle team? I didn't know.

Greg Knapp, Mike Mulligan's bartending rival, also abruptly closed up his bar and moved away to Calgary where he planned to start up his own chain of family-friendly restaurants. It was a bit of a perplexing decision on his part, considering he was still fairly successful at home in the Forest. My Dad was saddened to see Greg leave; since before Mike had come to the Forest, this had been his favorite hangout. Mike, on the other hand, celebrated his rival's leaving, as that meant he now had the only bar in the whole Forest. Mike purchased Greg's old jukebox and installed in his bar.

Around this time Schaeffer and Sophia Tutu's family moved to the Forest, but we didn't meet them just yet. It would be a couple more years before we met the both of them. (A fun fact: the Blue Spruce Café is located on the same plot where Greg's House Of Beer once stood.)

Before I knew it, Melissa was already graduating from college. She was the first in her whole family to officially earn a college degree, and she was very proud of herself for having done so. I was quite proud of her, too. She openly thanked me during her graduation speech for always being there for her and helping her out a lot. We celebrated her graduation by going out to dinner together.

Melissa still lived with her father at this point; though by this time she had gotten a job working at the local post office sorting the mail. "It's not the best job in the world," she told me once, "but at least it brings a paycheck!"

Soon, it was my last year of college, too, as was the same for Bert. Bert was already anxious to graduate, he had grown tired of school and just wanted to hurry up and be a rock star already. He couldn't take much more of having to listen to and review classical music compositions.

That year quickly flew by too, and soon it was January 1984. The year that George Porkwell had warned us in his 1948 novel would be the year a certain "Big Brother" would rule the world and have everybody under his control…fortunately, he was totally incorrect.

* * *

><p>It was approaching Valentine's Day again and that would mean that Melissa and I had been together almost two whole years. What a wonderful two years it had been, too-I wouldn't have traded them for the world. Mike almost considered me a son by this point, he actually had better advice than my father did and I often listened to his advice. He'd seen the world and was very weary of it, to say the least.<p>

Already, though, there were people beginning to ask me if Melissa and I were planning to get married sometime in the near future. My mother was one of them. "You've had such a nice relationship with her, isn't it about time you asked her to marry you?" she asked when I came to visit one day.

"Maybe one day," I said to myself.

Dad was also keen on this idea too.

"Hey, son, you've been dating that girl for two years. Aren't ya gonna tie the knot with her?"

"Maybe," I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I have my...reasons..." he chuckled.

It was a week to Valentine's Day and Bert was heckling me about it too.

"Say, Ralphie boy," he said, looking at me while we both watched a late night sitcom together. "You and Melissa have been together almost two whole years now!"

"That's right, Bert, we have. Two wonderful years," I replied.

"That's a long time to be dating," he said. "You ever thought about asking if she'll tie the knot with you?"

I didn't like that question.

"Bert, I don't really want to talk about it…"

"Why not? You two are definitely meant for each other. If you've been going out that long, you ought to seriously consider it, Ralph." Bert did have a point-maybe it was about time for us to begin thinking about it.

"Well," I admitted, "I have thought about it…but," I said a bit nervously, "I'm a bit worried it might be too soon for her. What if she said no?"

"What if she said no? Pah!" Bert said, scoffing. "You really think she'll say no?"

"It's a possibility," I said lowly.

"Ralph, she won't say no to you. Melissa loves you; she thinks the damned world of you! You're her hero. Of course she'd say yes to you. You have nothing to worry about!"

Bert was right, for once…

"Hmm…I think you're right Bert. I do think I should ask her sometime in the near future…"

"And I know just the perfect time," he said, laughing. "This coming Valentine's Day! Your two year anniversary with her. It's a perfect time, don't you think?"

I actually really liked this idea. "You know something?" I said aloud.

"What's that, Ralphie?"

"You're right, Bert, Valentine's Day is the perfect time to ask her to marry me!" I was excited at the thought.

"See, I told ya!" He high fived me.

"So, as soon as I can, I think I'm going to try to go down to Stuart's Jewelers and buy an engagement ring," I told Bert.

"Ooh, but those are expensive," he replied. "How much do they cost?"

"A good one costs about five-hundred dollars," I said firmly, "but lucky me I've been saving my money from working at Lassater's, and I have about nine-hundred saved up. That's more than enough," I grinned.

"Ah, you've already got it all planned out," Bert said. "And so a plan begins…" he rubbed his paws together, cheekily.

* * *

><p>That Thursday, I made my way down to Stuart's Jewelers, the main jeweler in the Evergreen Forest.<p>

Stuart Kenyon, the wolf owner, greeted me.

"Greetings there, young one!" he said, enthusiastically as I entered. "So, how may I help you there?"

"I'm looking for a ring to buy for my girlfriend for Valentine's," I said, smiling as I took a look at the engagement rings. I wanted to make sure I could find something that would perfectly suit her.

"Hmm, well, those are a little expensive, don't you think?" Stuart said, laughing. "I think they _might _be a little bit outside your price range, if you know what I mean. Here," he said, pointing over to some much plainer and considerably less expensive rings. Certainly not engagement ones. "Not so fancy, yes, but very practical and I'm sure your girlfriend would love one of these."

I shook my head. "That's nice, Mr. Kenyon, but, if you don't mind, I really was more interested in these over here." I pointed back towards the ones I'd been looking at; particularly this one that had a lavender-colored diamond in the ring. Lavender was Melissa's favorite color…

"Ah, you sure there?" Kenyon laughed again.

"Absolutely," I said firmly.

"Wait a minute," Stuart replied, rubbing his chin, "are you planning on pro-"

I interrupted. "That's exactly what I'm planning, sir," I said.

"Oh-hoh, I see," he said, winking slyly. "Well then, which of these do you think would make the best bet then, son?"

I pointed at the lavender diamond one. "I think this one will do, sir, lavender is her favorite color."

"Ah-ha, I see then. Well. That'll be five hundred and thirty five dollars." That was more than half my money, but I didn't care. Besides, whoever heard of a _cheap_ engagement ring?

"But," he replied, "for an extra one hundred and fifty bucks, I can have something engraved on this baby if you like."

Six hundred and eighty five dollars? That would be a _lot _of money, leaving me with barely two hundred left. "So, what do you think of that?" Stuart asked, looking for a response.

I already had some words in mind. It was a good idea. More than worth another one hundred and fifty dollars. "I like that idea, sir." I whispered the words I had in mind.

"Ah, that's a good one, kid. If she doesn't say yes to you after seeing this baby, well, there'll be just no impressing her!" Stuart laughed again, he was known for laughing a lot on the job.

"I really hope she will be impressed…" I said nervously.

"Ah, don't worry, you'll do just fine. Be back in about an hour or so kid and I should have it ready."

"See you then," I said, as I left to go do some other things around town. Eventually I got my ring and went back home.

* * *

><p>Soon it was Valentine's Day, Melissa and I's second anniversary together. I was already dressed up formally for our date tonight.<p>

Bert, meanwhile, was listening to some of his very old records.

"Say, Ralphie, you are gonna ask Melissa to marry ya tonight, aren't ya?" He said, curiously.

"That's what I plan on doing, yes," I replied.

"Hmm. Let's see that ring you got," Bert asked.

"Alright, take a look. What do you think?"

Bert looked quite impressed. "Wow, Ralph, that's pretty impressive. There's no way she's gonna say no to that now!" He laughed.

"I really hope not…" I said, a little worriedly, aware that there was the possibility she could decline. But there was no use in worrying about that. I'd already burned up most of my saved-up cash on this, I had to go through with this.

"You got nothing to worry about, buddy," Bert said, encouragingly. "By the time you come back tonight, she'll be your fiancée!"

"If everything goes right, yes. Say, Bert. You're listening to your old glam rock records?" I was surprised. Bert had stopped listening to that stuff _ages _ago, when it had gone out of style.

"Yeah, I am," he nodded. "I think I ought to see how well this thing has held up to a decade going by. I hope this is as good as I remembered it being when I was a kid." He grinned as he placed his old Tyrannosaurus Rex album (_Electric Soldier_, I believe) and put it on the turntable.

He almost instantly grimaced part way through the first song. "Oh man," he said, barely able to keep his laughter in. "I really used to listen to THIS? Wow. This hasn't aged well at all. This is almost hilarious to listen to."

"It was, remember? You were very keen on it when you were a kid. Some of those songs were the first you ever learned on a guitar." I remembered him trying to play Tyrannosaurus Rex and David Crowie all the time as we hit the teenager stage of our lives.

"Yeah, I know. So I suppose these songs are supposed to be special to me. Yet somehow, they're not…"

At that moment, a knock came on the door.

"Hold on, I'll get it!" I shouted.

It was none other than Melissa, ready for our date.

"Hi there, sweetheart," she said, smiling. She was wearing her best dress; as I said, Valentine's Day was a very formal occasion for us.

"Ah, good to see you, darling," I replied, putting my arms around her.

"Well, I'm all ready for our date…say, what's that?" Melissa was hearing Bert's glam rock playing on the turntable.

"Why, I'd recognize that any day of the year!" She sounded excited. Melissa had been into glam rock…?

"You know this group?" Bert asked inquisitively.

"Of course I do! Tyrannosaurus Rex was my favorite group when I was a girl. I used to have the biggest crush on Marc Bowlan." Melissa smiled fondly as she remembered her pre-teen and early teenage days.

"Melissa, you used to listen to Marc Bowlan?" Marc Bowlan had been the lead singer of Tyrannosaurus Rex and main songwriter; he'd been a teenage idol in the early 1970s, when Melissa had been a teenager. However, he'd been dead for close to a decade-he'd been killed in a car accident after losing fame.

"Oh, I sure did. I used to have a big poster of him hanging above my bed. I thought he was the most handsome man in the world. I even had his book of poetry!" I didn't know Marc had written a poetry book. I was already feeling a little jealous even though Marc was dead.

"An old shame, eh?" Bert said laughing.

"Sort of. I used to dream all the time he was singing those songs for me and that when I grew up we would get married." She giggled. "Now that I think about it, I was just a young silly love-struck girl, though. Yeah, I suppose it is pretty embarrassing…" She sighed.

"Oh, not as embarrassing as this. You wanted to marry him back then? I wanted to _be _him." Bert shook his head. "I can't believe I ever wanted to be that. This music is _so _corny listening to it now. I think I ought to sell these albums or something. I can't believe when I was a kid I actually wanted to paint my face up and be a glam rocker!" Bert felt pretty shamed. That was part of glam rock's style-the musicians were highly theatrical and would typically wear a lot of make-up, making it hard to tell whether they were male or female. And Bert actually _had _wanted to do that when he was twelve-for Halloween that year, he actually painted his face in make-up (his own mother's, for that matter) and went as David Crowie. Needless to say, his parents were not pleased…But that's another story in itself.

"You would have looked pretty ridiculous," Melissa chuckled.

"I guess we all have things we liked as kids that are embarrassing now," I replied.

"Don't I know it?" Melissa said.

"Well, are you ready, Melissa?" I asked.

"Of course I'm ready, honey," she answered.

"See ya two," Bert chuckled as he gave me the thumb-up to encourage me as we left.

"I can do this," I said to myself.

"You can do what, Ralph?" Melissa asked.

"Oh, ah, nothing dear. It's just…I've got a little surprise for you tonight."

Melissa smiled. "A surprise? I like surprises." She became curious. "What could it possibly be? Will it be something I like? Go on, Ralph, tell me!"

I laughed. "Haha, if I told you know, it wouldn't be called a surprise, would it?"

She nodded. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be. I'm already anticipating what it could be."

"You'll see, and I'm pretty sure you'll like it," I replied.

* * *

><p>After the two of us had had our dinner (again, at Lassater's-Lassater's really <em>was <em>the only good place in town at that time) and had to gone to see the movie we'd planned to see, we were both walking through the woods.

I was joking with Melissa. "Marc Bowlan, huh?"

"Ah, c'mon, honey. I'm sure _you _had some famous actress or singer you had a crush on back then." She was right-I used to have something for the folk singer Joni Finchell, though I never had posters of her around the house.

"Oh alright, I did." I relented.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"Joni Finchell." I said, embarrassed.

"Oh, I remember her. She was a folk singer, right?"

"Right. I really don't like to talk about that, though…"

"Hey," Melissa said, looking me in the eyes. "We all have things we're embarrassed to admit, don't sweat it."

"Thanks," I said.

"So where we are going now, Ralph?" she asked me eagerly. "Are we going back home?"

"Not quite yet," I replied. "How's about we head to the old Evergreen Dock?"

"Oh, that place," she replied. "Say, that's where the two of us had our first kiss." She smiled softly thinking about it. "Oh, you sly devil, you must have something planned. Is that where you're going to show me my surprise?" She looked at me, hoping for an answer.

"Yes, yes it is, darling," I replied, smiling at her.

"I can hardly wait!" Melissa was already excited.

Suddenly, somebody came stumbling out from behind one of the trees.

"_**YOU**_." He said. "It's YOU! You who made my life the living wreck it is now!" He pointed at me.

"Wait a minute…are you…" I could recognize that voice anywhere.

"That's right, you fool! It's me, your old 'buddy', Arnold Layne! I said I'd be back, and here I am!" Just as I thought, it was Arnold Layne.

I remembered what he'd said when Melissa had spurned his advances after the motorcycle competition a couple years earlier.

"_You're not all you appear to be Arnold. I don't ever want to see your face again! You, go away with your meaningless trophy__!_" Melissa had shouted at him.

Arnold slunk off saying to everyone, "_You haven't seen the last of Arnold Layne!_" I hadn't seen or heard from him ever since, I thought that I HAD seen the last of him for good. But now, here he was, again trying to cause me and Melissa trouble. But the last two years had NOT been kind to him at all. He'd lost his rough, burly, muscular physique and had packed on the pounds. His clothes were tattered and his fur was badly unkempt.

"Ever since that motorcycle competition, my life has been completely ruined! They didn't take my trophy away, thank goodness. But I was blacklisted because of that race! Ever since then, they won't let me compete in competitions anymore! I had it all; I was going to turn pro and conquer the professional circuit, then I was going to move over from two to four wheels and try my hands at the Indy Cars! I was going to be Canada's first Indy 500 winner!" Canada had indeed yet to produce an Indy winner. But Arnold really pictured himself being the first? He definitely did dream big, a little _too _big.

"Well, Arnold, this all could have been avoided," I said calmly, "if you never had pushed me off my bike."

"I should never have gotten in trouble for that, you idiot! You cost me my career, my livelihood, my future. Ever since then, I've been wandering the streets homeless as I lost all my bikes and failed to pay the rent for my home. I took up drinking and it's the only thing that's gotten me through the past year. I hold YOU responsible for what my life has turned out to be, and I am going to make you pay DEARLY for this, right now! Hahahaha!" Arnold laughed a very evil sounding laugh.

I admittedly did feel a little sorry for Arnold, but I can't say he didn't deserve it-after all, he got caught cheating and they kicked him out. It was far from undeserved.

Melissa scowled at him. "Well, you only brought this upon yourself. You should have thought before you cheated."

"Ah, it's you again, dollface! I see you're going steady with the big wimp right now!" Arnold sneered angrily at her.

"For two lovely years, Arnold," she smiled. "Never had a better time in all my life."

"Well, RALPH," Arnold said, scowling at me. "I hope you know the real reason she's dating your ass?"

"What would that be?" I said, incredulously.

"It's because she feels _sorry _for you. She doesn't really love you at all, she just saw how pathetic you were when you busted your ass during our little skirmish. She's only going out with you out of sympathy and as soon as she sees some hot young stud come into town, she's going to dump your sorry ass in a heartbeat. And I'll laugh when I see that! Didn't I tell you nerds like you don't get the girl?" Oh man, how I could not stand Arnold Layne…

But, was Arnold right? Could Melissa only be dating me because she pitied me? Was she really planning on dumping me?

_No_. I thought to myself. _We've been together for two years. Melissa clearly loves me, there's no way she'd ever leave me for someone else in the near future. Arnold's just trying to scare me and drive us apart._

Melissa scowled at him. "I don't know where you got _that _idea. I love Ralph! He's the sweetest, most honest, nicest man I've ever known; a hell of a lot better man than you ever could hope to be! And to think I honestly considered going to that dance with you. It's a good thing Ralph came to me, I found out you beat him up, you…you…you scum!" She clearly wanted him gone.

"Ah yes," Arnold said, an evil smile across his face. "The _dance_. The time me and you were supposed to go all the way." He had a horrible gleam in his dull grey eyes. "And now, I suppose I'll show you what you missed out on, angel eyes…heh-heh…" He instantly leered towards Melissa and grabbed her.

I was terrified. What the hell? Arnold was trying to grope up my girlfriend! If I didn't do anything, he would probably try to rape her right here in front of me. He was absolutely determined to make my life miserable.

Melissa panicked. "What are you doing? Get your paws off of me, Arnold! I'm with Ralph!" She tried to slap him, but he grabbed her paw and stopped her.

"You won't be with him much longer…" Arnold said, snickering evilly. "Wait until you see what a _real_ man is like….Hee-hee!" Arnold cackled insanely as he prepared to try to cop a feel.

"Ralph!" Melissa cried, panicking. She was trying to fight him off, but Arnold, despite his weight gain over the past two years, was still quite strong. "Help me, please! I can't fight him!"

I panicked and did the only thing I could think of.

I grabbed him by the back of the neck and spun him around.

"Huh, so you think you can stop me? I believe you're sadly mistaken."

"That's what you think!" I said as I reared back and punched Arnold right square in the snout.

I realized instantly I'd broken his nose.

"You…you…you…I can't believe this! The little baby grew himself a pair and broke by dose! By dose!" He shouted in a muffled voice as he ran off, dazed. "I'm gonna report you to the police for assault!" He shouted as he disappeared into the night.

"I'd like to see you try!" I shouted after him.

"I'll be back, just you wait! I'll be back, and you'll be sorry..." I heard his voice taper off.

Melissa immediately grabbed me and hugged me.

"Ralph, I don't know what I'd do without you. You saved me from him! If it hadn't have been for you…I don't like to think what he would have done…"

"Wow. I really did it," I said to myself. "I drove Arnold Layne away for good."

"You sure did," Melissa laughed as we both headed towards the pier. I really had gained a lot more confidence ever since I met Melissa. Three years ago, I would have _never _been able to protect her from Arnold.

* * *

><p>We both made our way to the old dock.<p>

"Okay, Ralph," Melissa said, looking me right in the eyes. She _always_ got me with those eyes. "What's your big surprise for me? I've been waiting for it all night."

"Oh, Melissa, I have something for you," I said as I reached into my tuxedo's pocket and pulled out a piece of paper I had in there. "It's a nice little poem."

"Read it to me, honey," Melissa said as she leaned in close.

"Alright." I cleared my throat as I read the poem. It wasn't the best thing I'd ever written, but it was a rather sweet poem about how love was eternal and it would last beyond death.

"Oh, Ralph," Melissa giggled. "You wrote that for me, didn't you?"

"It was that obvious?" I asked.

"Yes, it was. That was sweet, Ralph." She looked touched-she always loved when I wrote a poem for her. It really made her feel wanted, that's for sure. She leaned in and gave me a kiss. "Thank you."

"It was nothing, darling. I want you to know I meant every word of that, too." She smiled.

"I know you did, Ralph, I know you did…"

"I have one more thing I'd like to tell you," I said, clearing my throat. This was it. I was getting ready to ask her to marry me. Here went everything. If I messed this up, this would be the biggest embarrassment of my entire life. But if it went right…

"What's that?" she said, interested, giving me her full attention.

"Melissa, the past two years have been the best years of my life so far. I really can't believe we've been dating two whole years now, they've really gone by in a flash. Three years ago I'd have never thought we'd be here together; I didn't think I would ever be good enough for you. But, I'm really glad we took a chance on each other. I would have never thought that day three years ago at Lassater's would lead to all this. You mean the whole world to me, Melissa, and I don't ever want to let you down."

Melissa smiled at the words. "Go on, Ralph," she said, waiting to hear more.

"But now, I think it's about time we took our relationship a step further." I was sweating a bit, but I didn't care.

Melissa looked shocked. "Ralph…? Are you trying to say…?"

"I'm trying to say," I replied, as I took the ring box out of my pocket, "I love you with all my heart, Melissa Mulligan, and I'd like to ask: will you be my wife?" Melissa gasped when I showed her the ring I'd gotten for her.

"Ralph…?" Tears were starting to well up in her eyes. "You…you…do?" She looked like she didn't know what to say.

"Of course I do, so what do you say?"

Melissa instantly grabbed me and pulled me into the biggest kiss I'd ever had in my life.

"Oh, Ralph!" She said crying. "I'd love to Ralph. Yes! Yes, I will. I thought you'd never ask…"

This was the best moment in all my life. I'd just asked the love of my life to marry me-and she said yes. No educational accomplishment or any other accomplishment I'd ever achieved in my life to date could compare to this.

"Well, here you are, then," I said as I placed the ring on her finger. She took a good look at what was inscribed on it.

"To the one who can brighten up my darkest night," Melissa read, smiling.

"Ralph and Melissa Raccoon. It has quite a nice ring to it, don't you think?" she asked.

"It certainly does," I said as we kissed again.

**END CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, that is our third to last chapter. Chapter 15 features Ralph's father suffering a medical emergency (I kind of did foreshadow that, I think?), and Chapter 16 features a gathering of the entire Raccoon family (well, minus Uncle Rocky) and Ralph and Melissa's wedding. As well as Ralph's dad being an extremely gullible idiot again. (You'll see what I mean.) Chapter 17 is the epilogue leading up to the events of the show; and Chapter 18 is my big giant character list of glory and wonderment (TM).

Marc Bowlan is a Raccoons' version of Marc Bolan, the lead singer/composer of Tyrannosaurus Rex/T. Rex, a huge band (albeit mostly only in Britain) from 1971-1973. He was killed in a car crash in 1977. Unlike a lot of other teenage idols, he really _did _have talent; as thus they make an interesting listen today. He also really did have a book of poetry he published in 1969; it was called _The Warlock Of Love_. Little known fact: before he was a glam rocker, he was a Tolkien-influenced hippie putting out psychedelic acoustic albums. (His debut album was called _My People Were Fair And Had Sky In Their Hair But Now They're Content To Wear Stars On Their Brows_. Yes, it's that kind of album...) Some of the band's hits included "_Bang A Gong_," "_Jeepster_," "_Telegram Sam_," "_Metal Guru_," and "_20th Century Boy_". Thought it would be funny to have Melissa have a childhood crush on him.

I must sadly confess I am not a poet...at all. That's why I didn't include Ralph's poem for Melissa-because I can't write one. (The little jingle I made up for Sneer Kola pretty much display my non-talent for poetry...)

And as for the scene with Ralph's father being seduced by Cyril Sneer's soda commercial, that's insired by the opening cutscene from the _Simpsons Hit And Run_ game (one of the only good Simpsons games). Homer Simpson is drawn in by a commercial for "new and improved Buzz Cola" endorsed by Krusty the Klown; and thus, he immediately heads out to purchase it. Perhaps I took a little too much inspiration from Homer for Arthur Raccoon…

As always, read and review!


	15. Chapter 15: Dear Heart

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, this is it. The penultimate chapter. In this chapter, we see the lead up to Ralph and Melissa's wedding. And the next chapter will feature the entire Raccoon family gathering and their wedding. In this chapter, we'll see Ralph's father Arthur's unhealthy lifestyle beginning to catch up to him (leading to a medical emergency and a new direction in his life that will be delved into in a future story), and Mike Mulligan having to deal with his daughter getting married (has to be difficult for any dad, I'd imagine).

Well, are you ready? Let's dive in.

But first…

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the Raccoons…oh, thank God I don't have to type that but two more times in this fanfic. Anyways, I suppose this'll be the last question I'll pose to you readers. What was your favorite episode of the show? Myself, it's hard to say, but I suppose I'll have to go with Season Five (the last season…)'s "Cold Feet!". Damned hilarious seeing Cyril Sneer in love with something not green (money) and something that wasn't his own flesh and blood (Cedric). Though other good candidates include "The Family Secret!" and "The Sky's The Limit!"…_

_But anyways, now we commence with…_

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Dear Heart**

It was a big day.

A few days before, Melissa and I had just gotten engaged, and now we were about to announce it to everybody.

Melissa and I were already there at the Raccoondominium. Bert was already practicing his fur metal numbers. The funny thing was that he hadn't changed the material he'd been performing, he was just performing it in a different, much more inferior, style (to my ears, anyway).

"I wonder what everybody is going to say?" Melissa wondered aloud.

"I think they'll all be supportive of it," I said enthusiastically. "Especially my dad, since, well, he'll be the bartender's brother-in-law now."

"So typical of him," Melissa chuckled. I had to laugh too; that would be exactly what my dad would do. He _would _expect free beer since he would now be related to his bartender through their children's marriage. That almost certainly _had_ to be Dad's alterior motive for wanting to see us tie the knot.

"Well, Ralphie, I can't believe it," Bert said, laughing aloud as he put his guitar down. "You're getting married. I thought it'd be me long before you ever did. But, well, I suppose thing do turn out different; I don't think I'm ready to settle down just yet. But you, I always knew you would be the one who'd want to settle down."

"Well, Bert," I said, "is there anything wrong with that?"

Bert replied, "Nah, not particularly. You're welcome to that if that's what you want. Good to see the two of you happy. Myself, I can't wait until I graduate college so I can hit the road!" Bert was _still _looking forward to his alleged future as a rock star.

"Are you _sure _you'll make it, Bert?" Melissa was very doubtful. "You know, I've heard the studio executives aren't exactly the friendliest people you'll ever meet…" I'd heard that, too. I was worried that they were going to hoodwink Bert.

"Ah, no problem. When they hear our material, they'll be so impressed they'll have to give me that contract!" Bert was always thinking big.

"They will if they like your sound," I mused. As mentioned, Bert still had his "Flying Aces" from the dance together. However, the lineup had changed several times over the years. When Bert changed his style from straightforward heavy metal to fur metal, Carl Waters felt alienated as he had always been the odd man out in the band. While Bert and the rest of his band enjoyed rocking out big time, Carl was always trying to add experimentation to their lineup (Bert told me that at one show, Carl had made him perform an electric version of the _Nutcracker Suite _as an encore!) Carl had also written a number of songs for the band; Bert had shown me them. Carl's lyrics showed someone seriously going mad; they were highly eccentric word games without any real meaning to them coming to mind. When they had changed up their sound, Bert had asked Carl to start playing the synthesizer. He didn't take too kindly to that as he preferred his organ and piano. But he obliged and brought a synthesizer to a show. At the end of the first concert featuring Carl on synths, he promptly produced a hammer and proceeded to destroy the instrument with it, to a large round of cheers. He then promptly quit the band in a huff and dropped out of college and moved to the city where he was evidently "trying to be the Canadian Frank Zappa". Mark Miller had quit the Flying Aces as well, due to the fact he'd secretly auditioned for another band and joined them. Bert was still the lead singer, guitarist, and frontman, Don Davis still played bass, and Clancy still played drums. They currently had no rhythm guitarist, and another raccoon by the name of Don Ringtail had taken Carl's place as keyboardist. I knew very little about him, other than he was something of a wild guy and that he brought a Yamaha synthesizer with him. Also, Don was much older than the rest of then band-he was in his early 30s. He'd also had experience as the keyboardist and main songwriter of a short-lived unsuccessful progressive rock group called Clawhammer that had lasted about 5 years in the mid-70s. It was somewhat confusing to have two people in a band named Don, so Don Davis started going by "Donny Davis" to differentiate himself from Don Ringtail. I had no clue whether the Flying Aces stood any shot at mainstream success, but I thought, seeing the music scene of the mid-'80s, they _might _have a chance. _Might_ being the keyword.

"I know they will, Ralphie boy!" Bert was very spirited about this. He was determined to find success, come hell or high water. "It's the latest craze in music. The times, they are-a-changin', and heavy metal's out. Fur metal's the way of the future; they'll HAVE to give us a contract! We already have a date set up this July!" Bert had stars in his eyes, literally and metaphorically.

"Still, that's only if you pass their audition," Melissa responded. "If they don't like you, you don't get the contract."

"I'm not worried about that!" Bert was trying to clear his mind of all the negatives. "We'll pass with flying colors and come this time next year, we'll be on tour of America and have our debut album out!" Bert had to be the biggest dreamer I'd ever known. "I'm pretty sure we'll be the idols of every North American teenager-and maybe some in England and Australia."

"I can't really see that happening," I replied simply.

"Me neither," Melissa agreed. "Though, I suppose it is nice to keep your hopes up…"

"I'll show both of you, you'll see!" Bert laughed. He sat down on the couch next to us.

"So, when do you think everyone'll get here?" he asked.

"They should be here soon," I replied.

"I'm a little worried how my dad'll take it…" Melissa said, a little bit worried.

"Oh. It's probably going to be a little hard for him, seeing he's going to be losing his daughter…" That would have to be hard for Mike. Melissa was all he had left in this world, with her gone, he'd have nothing left.

"I know," she sighed. "But I hope he'll be able to learn to deal with it. He thinks pretty highly of you, Ralph, you know."

I knew that very well-Mike gave me a lot of solid advice. I'd never gotten much of that from my own father.

"Oh, I know, I know," I replied. "I think it'll all work out in the end, though. At least, I hope so…"

"Eh, it should," Bert said, lazing back. "Or maybe Mike'll get mad and shoot you! Heh-heh!"

My eyes widened at the thought. What if he didn't take it so well?

"I never thought of that…"

"Ah, I'm just kidding, Ralphie boy!" Bert laughed heartily, I didn't think that had been very funny.

"That was…not funny at all, Bert," I said, shaking my head.

"Hey, I thought it was…"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that, Ralph," Melissa smiled at me. "I think he'll understand."

Presently there came a knock at the Raccoondominium door.

"Ah, that must be them!" I said as I got the door.

Sure enough, there was my mother and father.

"Well, hey there, sonny boy!" my dad said in a very over-excited tone. "So, what's got you inviting us over to your little Anacondaminium?" My father could not remember the name of my house.

"It's called the Raccoondominium, dear," my mother corrected him.

"Oh, right, right! I knew that!" he said, laughing. "You think I'd forget that?"

"Art, you forget a lot of things…" my mother said lowly.

"Hey, there's not much room in this old brain! So, anyways," he said, looking to Melissa and I, "what's this big news you got? Did you rob a bank? Are you now filthy rich? Can I have some of your money? Pleeeeease?" He was already quite excited-he relished the idea of his children becoming fabulously wealthy. That hadn't panned out for George quite yet, so he had all his hopes on me.

Melissa chuckled, "Oh, no, Mr. Raccoon. It's not anything like that."

Bert laughed. "You'll see, it's quite a surprise!"

I also replied, "We're just waiting until Mike Mulligan gets here before we tell you. He should be here any minute."

My father gasped. "Mike? Oh no! I owe three hundred dollars on my bar tab to him! I've been trying to avoid going there the whole last week, I don't have the money! Oh no, he can't come over here! Hide me! Hide me, he'll turn me into a coon skin cap for sure!" He started panicking and freaking out.

"Oh, relax, Mr. Raccoon, I'm sure you two'll be able to work out," Melissa said, trying to reassure him.

That didn't seem to help Dad. "I don't know about that, your father likes to see his tabs repaid! He'll surely have my hide…" Suddenly, my dad groaned and started clutching his chest.

"Aiiiieeeeearrrrrggghhhh…." he groaned.

My mother looked concerned. I was too. That was not normal for him at all.

"Art, is…something wrong?"

As soon as he started, he went back to normal.

"Ah, it's nothing, honey," he said, chuckling. "Probably that chicken I ate earlier working its way into my gut."

"Are you sure, Dad?" I said, a tinge of worry to my voice.

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine." At that moment, Mike knocked on the door.

"Oh my god, run!" my father screamed as he dived into our couch and tried to hide under the cushions. It wasn't a very good job-his tail still firmly stuck out from underneath, and his girth also would easily give him away.

Bert shook his head. "Ralph, your dad has got to be the most cowardly man I've ever seen in my life."

I sighed. "I know, Bert."

Mike opened the door.

"Ah, hello there Mike," I said, waving to him.

"Oh, hey there, kid," he said, in a somewhat upbeat tone of voice.

"Hello, Dad," Melissa waved.

"Hi, sweetheart. Art?" Mike looked confused seeing my dad's…feeble attempts to hide from him.

"I'm not home, don't come in!" my dad screamed as Mike pulled the cushions off the top of him.

Dad screamed. "AAUUGHHH! Dammit! I knew my tail would give me away, I KNEW it! Why the hell do we have tails anyway? What do they do for us?"

"What the hell's the matter with ya?" Mike said, looking at my father like he was absolutely insane.

"I know why you're here. You're here to collect my unpaid bar tab! Have mercy on me, spare me the pain!" my father cried pathetically.

"Bar tab? Oh yeah, that. You better have that paid by next Friday, or else there's gonna be _hell _to pay…" Mike grinned a sinister looking grin at my father.

Dad gulped.

"But I'm not here about that. I'm here because my little angel said she had some big news. So, this is your home, eh, kid?" Mike asked me.

Bert answered him before I could.

"Yeah, this is me and Ralphie boy's Raccoondominium!"

"Raccoondominium, eh? Strange name you got there, but, eh, who am I to question it."

"So what's the big news we're supposed to hear about?" my mother asked.

"Oh, that! Well," Melissa began to explain, "you tell them, Ralph."

I would be the one to tell our families. "It concerns our relationship," I said, looking at her, "we have some very important news regarding that."

Mike's ears perked up. "Huh? I know you two've been goin' out for a couple years…"

Melissa happily announced, "Everyone, Ralph and I have decided we're going to get married!"

My mother was overjoyed. "Oh, Ralphie, my big boy! I can't believe my little boy is going to get married, it seems like…only yesterday that you were taking your first steps…"

"I know, Mom, I know."

Mike was smiling, though I could tell he was secretly shocked. "Married? Uh, ah, gee, that's great, honey. So, uh, when's the date?"

"We haven't decided yet," Melissa replied, "but we're thinking perhaps sometime in May would be a nice time."

"End of May? Sounds fine, sounds fine," Mike said, calmly. I could tell he was having trouble keeping his composure. This had to be really hard for him to take.

"Well, good on you, boy!" My dad slapped me on the back. "Now, first thing's first, we need to get your bachelor party planned. And no bachelor party is complete without a bunch of hot exotic dancers!" My dad laughed heartily.

I didn't really want a wild bachelor party, and I'm sure Melissa would not have appreciated it either. "Uh, dad, I think I'll take a rain check on that…"

"Nonsense! Every kid needs to have some wild fun at a bachelor party! I remember my co-worker Randy's stag party when he got married…heh, heh. It was quite a time to remember…"

I remembered that, Mom had gotten angry at him and almost thrown him out of the house for that. He'd consumed close to thirty beers and danced with the stripper and got himself in serious hot water for it. He almost got fired from his job for that incident. "I'm sure it was."

"Ralph," Melissa said, glaring at me. "You're not going to have a wild party, are you?"

"I don't intend on it," I whispered to her, hoping Dad wouldn't overhear me. "But knowing my Dad, he's going to try…"

"Oh, and when ya do get married, I know the perfect place for your honeymoon!" My dad already had this planned out in his head. "None other than good ol' Mount Vulcan, hee hee!"

I groaned. "Mount Vulcan? Why Mount Vulcan?" I knew exactly why he was suggesting it, though…

"Well, sonny boy, I figure you might want to, heh heh…consummate your marriage, heh-heh! That's why they got that nice little cabin up there!" My father, he could be so immature at times. Admittedly, though, that _wasn't_ a bad idea at all…

"Art, that's enough…" my mom said, glaring at him.

"Hey, I'm just giving the boy some good ideas! After all, it is where he got his start in life! Hell, I think it might be where _I_ got my start!" So it _was _exactly as I thought: I'd been conceived on Mount Vulcan.

"I don't know, Dad, I'd have to discuss that with Melissa…"

Mike looked pretty uneasy right now. "This is all great news," he said, "but, uh, I think I'm going to go back home. Got some things to attend to." As he went for the door, he turned and spoke to me. "Ralph, I'd like if you dropped by tomorrow. I need a…personal word with you." I began to worry that Mike was against the idea of us getting married. But I figured it would be something we would have to discuss…

"I'll be there, Mike," I said. "See you."

"Later, kid," he waved as he left.

Bert looked at me and grinned. "Your father's got a damn good idea, Ralphie boy! Mount Vulcan…couldn't be a better place for a honeymoon!"

My father also grinned his very dull looking grin. "Of course it's a good idea! I remember all the good times I had up there…mmm…good times…" He began drooling, obviously remembering all of his…romantic encounters with his wife atop the peak. "But those days are behind me now..."

My mom slapped him. "Art, I'd prefer if you not discuss those in front of our future daughter-in-law…"

Melissa smiled. "No, no, it's alright, Ms. Raccoon." She was already pretty used to my dad's immature and childish behavior.

"You two really think about it now," my dad said winking. Suddenly, he groaned again and began clutching his chest once more. What could be going on?

"Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrghhhhhhhh!" he groaned loudly.

"Mr. Raccoon?" Melissa looked worried, she and I both knew something was wrong with him. "Is there something wrong? Do you need help?"

"Well, Melissa, you know that feeling you get when it feels like your heart's being stabbed by a thousand forks and knives?" he asked, in a very strained voice.

"I can't say that I have," she replied.

"Well, that's what it feels like right no-Oooh, potato chips!" My dad instantly returned to normal as he noticed the bag of "Peanut Butter Potato Crisp" Bert was eating. Instantly, his attention was drawn to them.

"Here ya go!" Bert said, graciously offering him some. "They're on the house."

"Ah, the wonderful refreshing taste of peanut butter potato chips…" my dad said aloud as he scarfed some down his snout.

"Dad, I think there might be something wrong with you." I was very concerned about him; he'd never had this problem before. I had long worried that the vast amounts of fatty and unhealthy food he ate might lead to heart disease, could he be in the early stages?

"Nah, nothing's wrong with me, boy! Just had some food working its way through me wrong."

"I don't know about that, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa replied worriedly, "I think you might want to make a visit to hospital."

"Hospital? Oh, hell no!" My dad absolutely hated seeing Dr. Canard. "Dr. Canard's nothing but a big quack! Heh-heh! Ya know, it's funny 'cause he's a duck."

I slapped my face with my paw, embarrassed about my father's sense of humor.

"Nah, Dr. Canard'll fix ya right up!" Bert replied emphatically. "I had to go there to have my tonsils taken out, didn't hurt me at all!"

"No way I'm letting him anywhere near me!" my dad replied, outraged. He would _never_ voluntarily go to hospital.

"Art, if you've still got this problem by tomorrow, I'm rushing you to hospital," my mother said, warily.

"But, Millie, dear, it's nothing! I just got some big pre-work jitters, is all! I got a really big job tomorrow reupholstering the Sneer Mansion and if I do a good job Vacuum Face (his name for Cyril) might gimme a good bit of money! If I don't, my boss says he's kicking my tail outta there!" My dad constantly got in trouble with J. Marvin Mills. It was a regular thing for him.

"Well…" my mother sighed. She didn't want to give in and not take any action, but she decided to just let it go. "Alright, I suppose. But c'mon, honey. Let's go back home. But if you still have this problem tonight, I'm taking you to hospital in the morning, no ifs, ands, or buts about it!"

"NO!" my dad screamed. "No way you're putting me in hospital! No way, no how, no can do! I'm just fine, never been better!"

My mother relented. "Well, alright…"

As my mother and father left the Raccoondominium, my mom said to me, "Congratulations, you two. I'm sure the two of you will have a long and happy marriage, just like me and Art."

My dad gleefully exclaimed as he left, "With lots and lots of sex!"

I groaned.

My mother slapped him as they left.

"Ralph, I'm worried about your father…" Melissa said worriedly to me.

"I am too. He's never clutched his chest like that before."

"I think there might be something wrong with his heart…" she said. "I _really _think he needs to go see Dr. Canard at Evergreen Hospital, before anything really bad happens."

"Hey," Bert said, hopping up on the couch next to us and lazing back, "I'm sure everything'll work out fine. He'll be just fine!"

"Bert, I really don't know about that…" I had my doubts.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that," he said, as he flicked on the television.

I turned to Melissa again. "I see Mike wants to have a personal word with me."

"Oh, honey, it's nothing to worry about! He probably just wants to discuss this more in private. You'll see, it'll be fine!"

"I don't know, he could be opposed to our engagement, you know?" That was what I was worried about.

"No, I don't think so," she replied, smiling to reassure me. "It'll be just fine, you'll see."

"Well, if you think so, alright," I replied.

Later that night, I called my parents to make sure Dad was doing alright. I had to make sure, after all, seeing what had happened to him today.

But Dad said he was fine.

"Never been better, boy!" he said ecstatically. "I'm sitting here watching football and eating a delicious tub of lard. Life couldn't get any better!"

"Well, alright, Dad. Just thought I'd make sure…"

"Oh, I'm fine. Later, boy!" He hung up.

* * *

><p>The next day came and I made my way to the Mulligan household.<p>

Mike and Melissa were there to greet me.

"Ah, hello there, kid," Mike said from the sofa.

"Hello, Mike," I replied.

"Dad has something he'd like to say to you," Melissa told me.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I do," Mike said slightly. "Come, sit here kid."

I sat down next to Mike.

"Now, this is about that little…you know…marriage thing you two have planned." He sighed, this would not be easy for him to talk about.

"You're not opposed to it, are you?" I asked worriedly. I was rather worried that he was.

Mike laughed. "Haha, no! Not at all, kid, not at all." That was a relief. "You thought I was?"

"I sort of did…" I admitted.

"Haha, kid. I'm not like that. I got nothing against this, personally, but what can I say. Melissa is very happy with you, I can tell she is really looking forward to it. She's happy with you; if you two are happy, then who am I to come between that. Besides, better you than some other snot-nosed kid like those boyfriends she had in high school. You probably are one of the better representatives of your generation-no offense, Ralph, but you two's generation is a horrible one. _Far _too many punks with no respect for authority. But anyways, ah, no, I'm not going to stop it."

"See Ralph?" Melissa said, smiling. "I told you Dad wouldn't be mad about this!"

"Well, I'm glad about that," I said comfortably.

"But seriously, Ralph," Mike said, his voice taking a more saddened tone, "I'm not going to stand in the way of your happiness, but…but…" He sighed the most despaired sounding sigh I'd heard in a long time. "A part of me…doesn't want to see her go…"

I knew Mike would have a hard time dealing with all of this. He'd have to give Melissa away at our wedding; and that would definitely be a very...bittersweet day for him.

"I understand, Mike," I said, hoping that would reassure him.

"No, kid. No, you don't understand. You don't understand what it's like at all, you're not much more than a kid yourself. You're only…eh, how old are ya?"

"Twenty-two, Mike," I replied. I'd turned 22 the previous September.

"Yeah, you're only twenty-two. I'm forty-five this July. You'll never fully understand what I'm going through until you have children of your own, Ralph, you really won't. Think about it, kid. My wife died right after Melissa was born; she's all I got left in this world. Well, outside all of the drunks at my bar. But they _never _appreciate me. They never tell me thanks for providing them with their booze. Well, _sometimes_ your father appreciates me, but that's only sometimes. Melissa's the only one who's ever really needed me who didn't die on me or was appreciative of it. But now, she's all grown up. She's getting ready to leave the nest, start a new life with you. I'm not really looking forward to giving her away at you two's wedding. She won't need me anymore, as she won't be my responsibility anymore-she'll be yours. And after that, well…" Mike looked truly sad. He wasn't crying, but I could tell he felt like it.

"And then what?" I asked.

"And then, _nobody_ will need me anymore. I'll have no real purpose in this world, my role as a parent and a guardian's done for. I'm worried that I might never see her again after you two get hitched." Mike looked down at the floor, wiping his one eye.

"Don't worry, Dad," Melissa said, putting a paw on his shoulder. "That won't happen! I'll still drop by to visit from time to time, I won't be going _that _far away! I'll be living with my new husband at his Raccoondominium, you know where it is!"

"Yes," I said, reassuringly, "and you're always welcome to drop by and visit!"

"Thanks," Mike said, a little more cheerfully, "but, still. She won't have to depend on me anymore. Who will truly need me? Nobody. It has to be the most miserable feeling in the world when nobody needs you…"

"Dad, I've told you before, you might meet a nice woman who'll think the world someday!" Melissa smiled at him.

Mike frowned. "No, Melissa, I wish I could believe you, but I just simply can't. Ever since Allie died, I've been all alone since then. I've tried to find other women before, but none of 'em want me. Who the hell wants to go out with an old, ugly raccoon that runs a bar? You know what's really sad? Mel here tried to get me to write to some Lonely Hearts Club or something or other back when we lived in Prince Rupert."

"I thought it would help you out a lot," Melissa replied, remembering it.

"So, how did that turn out?" I asked Mike.

"Horrible, kid, how the hell else did you think it turned out?" I should have figured as much, seeing the mood Mike was in. "They set me up with some woman who lived in Fort St. John. Seemed like quite the nice lady from our letters, but when she came to meet me for the first time, she turned tail and ran out screaming. Said I was the most hideous man she'd ever met in her life and I was nothing like the letters said. That was the moment I realized I was gonna die alone."

I felt bad for Mike. Sure, he may have been…not very handsome or much to behold, plus he did have a bit of a bad temper, but I knew at heart Mike was a good man who loved his daughter dearly and worked hard at his bar to support her. He had lived a very hard and lonely life and it had shown-though he was only a few years older than my own brother, he looked about twenty years older then he really was. You couldn't help _but_ feel sorry for the poor guy. I couldn't believe there wasn't some woman who would be willing to look past those faults of his and see that.

"That isn't right," I said to him, "there _ought _to be some woman out there who can see past your faults."

"Yeah, I know there oughta," Mike said, still in a rather depressed way, "but, there isn't. What the hell. It's probably what I deserve anyway, I made a lot of dumb mistakes when I was a kid. I suppose this is my just desserts. I probably deserve to die alone."

"Dad, don't talk like that!" Melissa was concerned for him. "You never know, Dad. She might very well come along someday, and you'd miss her because you don't think anyone would like you."

"It's nice of you two to try to cheer me up, but it isn't doing much good. They say you only have to get love right once in your whole life; well, I did. But it didn't last, she died and there was nothing I could do for her. Melissa is the only mark I'll leave behind in this world; the Mulligan family name is going to die out with me."

I tried harder to reassure him. "No, it won't, if Melissa and I have children someday, think about it. You'll have grandkids."

"Yes," Melissa agreed, "and then you can play with them. It'll be like when I was a little girl, won't it?"

"Oh no, I'd love grandkids, believe me, I do, but it won't be the same. It just won't be the same. And besides, so she may pass on my genes, but the Mulligan name won't live on, she'll take your name Ralph, and I never had a son. All the rest of my family's dead. My mother and father died years ago, I don't know much else about the rest of my family. Ya know, I had a brother named Scott."

"What was he like?" I asked.

Melissa answered that one. "Uncle Scott died when I was little. You probably would have liked him, Ralph-Bert reminds me of him somewhat. Uncle Scott was carefree and happy-go-lucky just like Bert is."

"Yeah, Scottie was quite a character. However, they drafted him into the army and shipped him out to 'Nam. The Cong killed him. They shot him while he was trying to help save a friend of his who had fallen. They sniped him and blasted his head off. That happened back in '66. Scott ended up winning the Medal of Honor posthumously for bravery. But, he didn't have to die like that. He didn't really want to go to 'Nam and they _made_ him. And they killed him. They killed my brother. _That's_ part of the reason why I fled from Kentucky to up here. As far as I know, I'll be the last of the Mulligan line." Mike really and _truly _felt alone.

"Mike, I know this is a lot for you to have to deal with," I said, struggling to come up with something to say to reassure him, "but, it won't be as bad as you think it will be. I promise that."

"Sure, sure," Mike said doubtfully. "I'm not worried about Melissa at all. I think she's in good hands, I think I can trust you with her. I mean, I knew this day would have to come someday, I guess I…just never prepared myself for it. I didn't want to think it would come."

"Well, cheer up, Dad," Melissa said. "I won't forget you Dad, as I said you can always drop by the Raccoondominium if you feel like, we'll always welcome you there. Or we can always visit you."

"That'd be nice," he said, lowly. Mike then looked to me.

"Ralph, kid, I want you to promise me something," he said.

"And that is?" I asked curiously.

"Look, you two will be wed soon and I'm happy for the both of you," he said sighing. "But please, Ralph. Promise me this. Promise me you'll always be there for Melissa. Always be there for her when she's sad and cheer her up. Don't ever let her down, always be there to support her whenever she needs it."

"I've been doing that the whole time we've dated," I said, humbly, "so you don't have to worry about that."

"And promise me you'll never do anything bad to her, never hurt her. Don't ever cheat on her or do anything of the sort. And don't do anything dumb, kid. I don't want her to end up a sad, lonely old raccoon like me. She deserves better than that, kid. If I do find out you cheated on her or did anything to hurt her, I will make _you _regret it for the rest of your life. And you better not let anything bad happen to her, because if _I _find out…"

That was a given in a marriage. "Mike, rest assured, you don't have to worry about any of that-"

Mike interrupted me, grabbing me by the scarf.

"No, that's not good enough!" he said hysterically. "Ralph, I want you to _promise_ me that, man to man. I want your word to go back on. I want to be absolutely sure I have your word to trust."

"I promise, Mike. I promise I will take good care of Melissa and I will never let anything bad happen to her and I will always do right by her," I said, confidently.

"Good, Ralph. I feel better hearing that." Mike smiled.

"You didn't have to make Ralph say all that," Melissa said to him. "Ralph's already promised me all that! He gave me his heart, after all," she grinned.

"I know that, honey. I just felt I needed to hear it from him myself."

At that moment came a phone call.

"I'll get it," Mike sighed.

"No, no, Mike, let me," I said, trying to be polite.

"Ah, go right ahead kid."

I answered the phone. "Hello?"

Much to my surprise, it was Bert on the other end of the line.

"Ralphie boy, I needed to call you. Something just happened." He sounded…concerned.

"What's happened, Bert?'

"Ralph, your mother just called me and she was hysterical." What could my mom's problem be?

Then I remembered what had happened yesterday. My father having chest pains. Could it be…?

"What's wrong?" I said frantically, realizing what very well might have happened.

"I couldn't make out all of what she said, but from what I know, your dad collapsed at Cyril Sneer's on the job and he's in hospital. It's…urgent, Ralph. She wanted me to tell you to pass this on to you and for you to get to Evergreen Hospital as soon as you can."

Oh no, it was exactly what I thought.

"Oh no, Dad!" I said, sadly.

"I'll be at Evergreen Hospital ASAP," I said as I hung up the phone.

Melissa and Mike looked at me worriedly.

"What's the matter, honey?" Melissa said, concerned.

"That was Bert. Something's happened to my Dad and they had to take him to hospital. I need to get there, fast, before it's too late."

Melissa looked at me with sad eyes. "Ralph, I'll go with you. This is my future father-in-law, after all,"

Mike looked a bit…surprised. "Wow, one of my best customers. Having a medical emergency. I can't go," he said, "but please, you two. Let me know how he makes out. Especially since I need to collect that bar tab money from him."

"I'll be sure to," I said, as Melissa and I both raced to hospital as fast as we could.

* * *

><p>We were sitting in the waiting room. Nurse Peck came out to speak to us.<p>

"You must be Ralph Raccoon," she said to me in her Irish accent.

"That would be me, nurse," I replied.

"Your father is in the ICU. He was working at the Sneer Mansion when he collapsed abruptly. Cyril Sneer ended up rushing him to the hospital. Very surprising knowing him," she said, chuckling.

I was surprised too. Cedric had always told me Cyril did have a good side to him, this was the first time I'd really heard of it. He'd actually realized something had happened and actually brought him here to the hospital himself. It was…quite a big surprise.

"So, what happened to him, nurse?" I asked. I had a damned good idea what it was, but I didn't want to believe it.

"Ralph, your father has suffered a heart attack. His arteries were clogged up from years of eating unhealthy food. Cyril brought him here in full cardiac arrest."

I was saddened, but it was not a surprise at all. I'd always worried that the years of eating fattening food would do this to him, and it had done exactly that.

"Not surprising," I sighed. "Can I see my dad?"

"Sure thing, he's in ICU room 47," Nurse Peck said.

"I'll come too," Melissa said, getting up to follow me.

"How are you related to Arthur Raccoon?" Nurse Peck asked her.

"I'm Ralph's fiancée," she replied.

"Sorry, but only the immediate family's allowed at the moment."

Melissa sighed. "Oh. Well, I guess I'll have to stay here then…"

I wanted her to come with me, but I didn't protest against Nurse Peck. "I'll hopefully be back soon, honey," I told her.

Melissa kissed me. "I hope your father pulls through, dear. I'll be waiting right here."

I followed the nurse to room 47.

My dad was lying there in the bed. My mother was standing over him, looking visibly worried. He was just beginning to come to.

"Where…am I? What….happened? Who…am I? What am I? How am I? Why am I?" he asked, confused.

Dr. Canard looked down and smiled.

"Ah, we've got him conscious again and his heart is beating normally again. It looks like for the time being he'll be alright."

My dad gasped when he saw Dr. Canard. Dr. Canard was the person he feared the most in the whole world.

"AH! D-D-Dr. Canard! What the hell am I doing in hospital? How did I end up here?"

My mother instantly wrapped her arms around him. "Oh Art, you scared me there! I thought you were dead!"

Dad still looked confused and scared. "What happened? How did I get here?"

Dr. Canard spoke, "Well, Mr. Raccoon, you've just had a heart attack. We just brought you back from unconsciousness."

My dad looked surprised. "Heart attack? Is that what all that pain in my chest was? I thought that was gas."

"Art!" My mom shouted at him. "You scared me! I told you those fatty foods would be the death of you, you should have listened to me!"

Dad just grinned. "Death of me? Nah, I can't live without them."

"Well," Dr. Canard said solemnly, "it might be a good idea to learn how to live without them."

My dad gasped. "WHAT? Live without fatty foods? How can I ever do that, I've eaten this stuff my whole life!"

Dr. Canard shook his head. "Well, Mr. Raccoon, they sort of are the cause of your heart attack."

My dad didn't know what to say.

Mom looked to Dr. Canard and asked, "So, Dr. Canard, how bad's his heart? Is he going to be alright in the long run?"

"Well, we don't know that yet. We'll have to perform a few tests on him to determine how badly his heart's damaged."

My dad scoffed, "My heart? Damaged? No way! This old thing's strong as ever! It just had a little hiccup today, but I'm sure with a few hours of rest it'll be fine and dandy like always! You can let me go now, Doc."

I sighed. "Dad, I don't think this is something they can let you out of hospital for in a day. They need to do their tests."

My dad laughed. "Test, schmests! Who am I supposed to trust, this quack or me?"

Dr. Canard frowned. "You know, I _do_ take personal offense to being called a quack, Mr. Raccoon…"

My mom frowned at him. "Don't be rude to Dr. Canard, your health is in his hands."

Dad sighed. "Sorry, Doc."

Soon enough they performed their tests on my father.

"So how bad is it, Dr. Canard?" my mother asked.

"Well, I'm afraid to tell you, Mrs. Raccoon, your husband's heart is indeed damaged. It looks like he'll require a triple bypass surgery."

My dad looked confused. "Triple bypass surgery? In English, please. I don't speak Medicinese."

I explained it in more simple terms. "That means you're going to have open heart surgery, Dad."

My dad was _still _confused. "What are you talking about? I don't follow." My dad could be outstandingly dumb sometimes.

Mother tried to explain it as simple as she possibly could. "They're going to tinker with your ticker, dear."

Dad shook his head. "Can you explain it a little simpler than that?"

Dr. Canard just shrugged. "I don't know how it can be explained any simpler than that, Mr. Raccoon."

After a minute, my father realized what was going to happen to him in the coming days. He instantly became afraid.

"Doctor, no, no! You can't do this to me, I don't really like the idea of you going in and fiddling with my insides! How can I possibly withstand that?"

Dr. Canard laughed. "Oh, there's no need to be so worried, Mr. Raccoon! You'll be put to sleep before the operation, you won't be conscious during the operation at all. You won't feel a thing until you wake up."

That still didn't ease my dad's worries.

"I don't know, Doc…Can't I just take one of these home with me instead?" He pointed to the defibrillator. "I'm sure this thing could keep me alive forever." He then took the paddles and shocked himself with them. "Ah...a nice fuzzy feeling...I could get used to this..."

Dr. Canard just laughed at him. "No, Mr. Raccoon. I'm afraid we can't give you a defibrillator."

"But I don't want to go through surgery..." my dad whined.

My mother tried to reassure him.

"It's for your own good, honey. If they don't do this surgery, you might…You might die," she said, solemnly.

"You do want to live to see Melissa and I get married, don't you?" I asked him.

"Hell, of course I do!" he said, laughing. "I wanna live to see ya marry your dream girl, I wanna live to see me get my free booze at Mike's! Since you and his daughter will be getting hitched, I figure he'll have to give me free beer since we'll be related! We'll be like brothers, only closer."

"Well then," Dr. Canard said, "are you willing to go through the surgery?"

My dad thought (rare for him) for a moment and sighed. "Well, alright Doc…But you better not hurt me, or else I'll sue the hospital and finally get my million dollars!"

"I've a good record with patients, you have nothing to worry about."

My mother scheduled my dad's surgery for two days from now. In two days, they'd operate on his heart and hopefully he would be on the fast track to mending.

Mother and I left the room, where Melissa was waiting.

"So how bad is your father, Ralph?" she asked me.

"Well, he's going to need a triple bypass surgery. He damaged his heart," I sighed.

"I feel sorry for him. Sure, he may have had a really…unhealthy lifestyle," she said, sympathetically, "but, he's your father. It has to be very hard on you going through this."

"I know…" I sighed again.

Much to my surprise, someone very familiar was in the waiting room now.

"Cyril Sneer?" my mother said aloud.

Cyril growled, taking a long puff off of his cigar. (I was surprised they let him take it in with him).

"What do you ringtailed bandits want?" He looked at me in particular. "Hey, it's you. Cedric's 'friend'. You're the one who ruined my deal with Mr. Mammoth to bring professional baseball to this low-classed Forest!" I could tell Cyril did _not _think highly of me.

"That would be me, sir," I replied, lowly. "But, I've heard you rushed my father here to hospital when he had his…emergency at your mansion."

Cyril acted like he had no idea what I was talking about. "What? Me? Couldn't have been me!"

My mother spoke to Cyril.

"Mr. Sneer, you don't need to be so modest."

Cyril finally admitted what he'd done.

"Alright, alright, no need to make a big scene out of this. That gargantuan oversized masked bandit was supposed to help replace the carpeting in my personal chambers this morning. He came over here and started asking if the three pork chops could do a song and dance number like the ones he says he saw on that idiot box you call a television."

I laughed. "That sounds like him, alright." Dad had seen the dancing pigs that always appeared on the late-night talk shows (not that he understood most of their jokes anyways), so it was quite likely he would ask such a thing out of Lloyd, Boyd, and Floyd.

"Well, after they argued with him for a while, he got to work and I went to counting my precious gold stash. When suddenly I heard this dreadful girlish screaming and I ran to see what the problem was. I found him writhing around on the floor like a dying snake. Those three filthy swine of mine started panicking and running around not knowing what to do. Well, I can't just let this behemoth lie there where he'd probably die, so we rushed him into my limo and brought him here where I figured they'd be able to help his hide."

My mother instantly wrapped her arms around Cyril and hugged him. His eyes bulged-he didn't want a hug from a raccoon.

"Mr. Sneer, you're a hero," she said to him, "you saved my husband's life, I don't know how I can ever thank you!"

Cyril broke free from her grip and adjusted his cigar a bit. "You can start by not mentioning this to the public. I am _not _a hero. Any person with good common sense would have done what I did." he said.

I decided that Cyril deserved some praise for what he'd done. "Mr. Sneer, sir, thanks for helping my dad out in his time of need."

Cyril shrugged. "Ah, don't mention it, you rascally bandit. But don't you _even_ begin to think we're on friendly terms now-I still haven't forgiven you for costing me my big deal with Mammoth! I was going to have the Mudhens play right here in the Forest! People would come from all over the country to see them! And you cost me that with your little _college newspaper_." He growled at me.

"I only did what I thought needed to be done. That would have probably ruined the Forest," I said.

"This forest could stand to have some more culture to it, more than a bunch of giant matchsticks..." he growled. "Now that I know he's out of the woods and the risk of a lawsuit is fading fast, I'll be on my way! Those meddling porkers better have my limo ready," he sneered (bad pun again, sorry) as he stormed out of the hospital.

We waved to him, although he ignored us. He growled to himself as he left, "Stupid masked bandits...I oughta..."

"I don't know how I can ever repay him for what he did. If he hadn't have helped, my husband would probably be dead right now," my mom said.

"I'd heard Cyril was the stingiest businessman alive," Melissa said to me. "But what do you know? He has some good to him, after all."

"I know," I said. "I'm still a little surprised."

* * *

><p>A day passed and the next day, after my college courses, I came to visit Dad again. Melissa came too, as today, the day before my dad's big surgery, visitors outside of the family were allowed to visit. I figured we'd stay a while to keep an eye on him.<p>

"Hello, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa said to him as he lay there in the bed. "Are you doing better today?"

"I suppose so," he sighed. "I'm just a little scared about the surgery. What if Dr. Canard proves to be the quack I think he is? What if it goes all wrong?"

Melissa laughed. "Oh, Mr. Raccoon, you don't need to worry. I'm sure you're in good hands at this hospital. You'll be just fine and back on your feet in no time."

"Gee, I sure hope so," Dad said, looking down at the floor. "I want to get better so your father can give me some free beer once the two of ya's are hitched!"

I laughed. "Ah, Dad, you really want that free beer, don't you?"

"You bet your sweet ass I do, son!" He was already thinking about it. "Mmm…free Snoup's…aaaaaagggghhhh…." He began to drool and it ran down his face and dripped onto the hospital floor.

He quickly snapped out of it.

"Ah, sorry, sorry! I just got lost in thought…"

Melissa couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know about the free beer, you'll have to talk to my Dad about that. I don't know if he'd want to give you alcohol for free even if you two are going to be related."

Dad's eyes bulged for a moment.

"What? Of course he'll give me free beer! He'll be my new brother! The brother I never got to have! Because my real brother never really cared for me much…" This was true; Uncle Rocky had never particularly liked my dad. He'd always thought of Dad as a nuisance and a simple-minded imbecile. He actually frequently referred to him as "my imbecile/idiot brother". Dad got along with Aunt Gertie a lot better.

"We'll see about that," Melissa said to herself.

Soon enough Mike Mulligan came to visit.

"Hey, Mike!" my dad said as Mike came in.

"Ah, so I've heard all about your little medical emergency. Mel told me all about it. Didn't you?" Mike said as he came in.

"I sure did, Dad," Melissa said to her father.

Soon, Mike Mulligan was joined by my dad's two best friends and co-workers, Peter Fagan and Henry Rogers.

"Pete! Henry! Glad to see ya two drop by," my dad said enthusiastically.

"Hey, Art, we heard about your little heart trouble and figured we'd drop by!" Henry said as he came in.

"Well, they're gonna do something or other to my heart, but I hope I make it out alright."

Mike spoke. "Heh, you better. There's still the little issue of your unpaid bar tab…" Mike said, a menacing grin upon his face.

My dad gasped. "Mike, there's no way I can pay that! I'm in hospital!"

"Well…" Mike said, thinking to himself, "I suppose I can forget about the bar tab. For the time being."

"Whew! That's a relief."

"Well, anyways, Art, I figured I'd sneak ya in a little something or other. I brought you this." Mike held up a beer mug full of Snoup's.

"Ooh, beer! How thoughtful, _brother_…" my dad said as he took the beer and started drinking it furiously.

Melissa and I were seated by the window. I spoke to her.

"I guess my dad really _is _excited about this."

"I'll say," she chuckled lightly.

Mike then looked at my dad and frowned. "That isn't free, ya know. It'll cost you three bucks."

My dad looked sad.

Mike soon left after he forced three dollars out of my Dad.

After a while, Peter took notice of Melissa and me.

"Hey, that's your boy, isn't it, Art?" he asked.

"Sure is, and that's his girl right there!" Dad said, excitedly.

"Hey, you're Mike's daughter, aren't you?" Henry said to Melissa.

"That's right," she said. "Ralph and I are getting married in May."

"I'm damned happy about it too," my dad said. "That means Mike'll be giving me free beer for the rest of my lifetime!"

"Awww, that's no fair, you're going to be in-laws with our bartender." Peter said, lowly. "Can't you find a way to get us some free booze too?"

"I'll see if I can work something out with Mike," Dad said smugly.

Melissa added, "That is only if my Dad sees fit to supply him with free beer, you know."

Henry laughed. "She's got quite a point there, Art."

Peter nudged him and agreed. "Yeah, _you're_ the one always getting kicked out, you know!"

Dad just shrugged. "Oh, you guys, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to work something out!"

"Well, we'll have to see about that," Peter said.

"So how's work been the past day?" my dad asked.

"Fine," Henry said. "J. Marvin said he was going to drop by here later today. Said he had something very important to tell you."

My dad beamed. "Well, alright! Maybe boss'll finally give me the worker of the week award for all this health trouble I've been goin' through!"

I nudged Melissa. "That'll _never_ happen," I whispered to her.

"Not too surprising!" she said.

Peter looked a bit nervous. "Well, you'll find out when he gets here. Me and Henry were going to go bowling. We'd ask ya to join us, but well, you're kinda laid up here, so maybe another time."

"See ya," Henry said as they left.

My dad sighed. "Oh, I hate being here in this hospital bed…I wanted to go bowling!"

I reassured him. "It'll only be until after your surgery, you'll only probably be here another week or so. You can go bowling once you get better."

"That better be soon," Dad said, grouchily.

"With luck, it will," Melissa replied.

Soon enough, Gabriel Taliesyn came in. The last person my dad ever wanted to see.

I whispered to Melissa. "That's Gabriel, my father's co-worker. Dad hates him because Gabriel is a harder worker than he is."

Melissa laughed. "Your father can be so silly sometimes."

My dad growled when he saw Gabriel come up to him.

"Taliesyn! What the hell are you doing here?"

Gabriel spoke sympathetically to my father.

"Arthur, I know you may not care much for me at all, and I know we've never talked much, but I wanted you to know that I have heard about your little heart hiccups you've been having, and I thought you might like to know I have been praying for you the past two days."

My dad looked angry at Gabriel.

"Well, keep me out of your damn prayers, Taliesyn! I don't wanna be in 'em!" he snapped.

"No need to be so hostile," Gabriel said as he turned to leave. "Lord, bless this noble oaf."

"Good riddance," my dad growled.

"Why don't you like Gabriel, Mr. Raccoon?" Melissa asked. "He was praying for you. I think that was very thoughtful of him."

"Because," my dad said, grudgingly. "The man is a complete butt kisser. He always kisses up to my boss' ass all the time and that's why he always get the big raises and all the awards. Stupid Taliesyn."

"That seems like such a senseless grudge," she said, shaking her head.

"My dad is not one to let a grudge go, even in a situation like this," I told her plainly.

Last and not least, the last visitor to come was the one person my dad dreaded the most, J. Marvin Mills himself. And he was _not _happy.

"Arthur Raccoon!" he shouted, angrily. "I've heard you got out of that big job I assigned you reupholstering at Sneer Mansion!"

"I can't help it, I had a heart attack…" my dad said, fearfully. He was afraid of his boss.

"That's no excuse! You could have still finished the job! You've always used these excuses! 'I have the flu!' 'I have amnesia!' 'I have a foot fungus!' Well, I've had enough of them! You've worked for me for twenty-five years, and this is the last straw!"

"Oh no," Melissa said to herself.

"Ya don't mean…?" my dad said, worried what J. Marvin would say next.

"Arthur Morgan Raccoon, _**YOU'RE FIRED!**_"

My dad gasped. "F-f-f-f-fired….?" he said, weakly.

"Yes, FIRED! I've been waiting for an opportunity to do this since the day after I hired you, and now it's finally arrived! With you gone, I believe our company productivity will increase ten-fold! Now goodbye to you, Arthur, I don't ever want to see your face again!" With that, J. Marvin left with a gleeful look on his face.

"Wow, my dad just lost his job…" I couldn't believe it. Sure, my dad had always been a lazy and slacking worker, but he had a legitimate excuse for not completing his job-he had a heart attack after all. He couldn't do anything about that. (Well, he could have eaten more healthily, but…) It was not right for J. Marvin to fire him.

"Oh no," my dad said, sadly. "Now what am I gonna do for a living? I'm fifty-six years old, and all I know how to do is lay down carpets! How am I ever gonna get another job? What will Millie say?"

"It isn't right, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa said, a tone of sympathy to her voice. "He shouldn't be able to fire you for having a legitimate excuse. That's not right of him at all."

"No, it isn't," my dad said sadly. "But what can I do about it? Now I'm gonna have to try to find another job…"

"Well, maybe you'll find a better job, Dad. Who knows?" I was trying to keep his spirits up.

"No, I'll never be able to, I'm too old. Who will want me?"

"You can _try_," Melissa said encouragingly.

"I'll try…" my dad sighed. "But I don't know if I'll be able to…"

"We'll see how it all turns out," I said as Melissa and I turned to leave.

"Where are you two going?" my dad asked, worriedly.

"We're going back to the Raccoondominium. It was nice staying with you, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa said, smiling.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be back in the morning before your surgery."

"Alright, see ya, boy…" my dad said as he looked depressingly down at the floor, saddened over losing his job.

* * *

><p>Soon, Melissa and I were back at the Raccoondominium, chatting with Bert.<p>

"Your dad lost his job?" Bert was surprised.

"Yes. J. Marvin Mills fired him for not getting his job done." I didn't really want to talk about it.

"He can't do that! Your dad had a heart attack! J. Marvin Mills is a cold, cold man. If anyone has no heart, it's him!" Bert was outraged about this whole situation.

"I know, Bert, but what can we do?" Melissa said, matter-of-factly. There didn't seem to be much we could do about it.

"We can try to help your dad get a new job once he's back on his feet.I can find him one!"

"Well, Bert. We'll see about that," Melissa said.

I didn't know if Dad would be able to find another job. I just hoped he'd make it through his heart surgery the next morning...

**END CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I know that ending seemed maybe a little bit abrupt, but that is where I felt I wanted to end this chapter. The next chapter is the last one and features the outcome of Ralph's father's open heart surgery (No, you don't get to see it) and also features the whole Raccoon family (Minus Uncle Rocky, of course) gathering just prior to Ralph and Melissa's wedding. Also, Ralph's father has another misadventure, and Ralph and Melissa finally get married, plus you get to meet several characters from past chapters of the story.

In case you're wondering, Peter, Henry, and Gabriel are all Simpsons-inspired characters, just like Arthur Raccoon: Peter and Henry are inspired by Homer's co-workers/friends Lenny and Carl, and Gabriel Taliesyn is partially inspried by Ned Flanders (well, more of a mix between Flanders and Smithers, minus Smithers' obvious gay (Burns-sexual as the Simpsons writers called it) attraction for Mr. Burns). The reason I introduced them in this chapter is as a precursor to a fanfic I am writing next year in which they will make semi-starring roles in a (possible) subplot. Arthur's heart issues were partially inspired by a Season 4 episode of the Simpsons in which Homer had a heart attack (_Homer's Triple Bypass_, I think it's called).

I honestly don't have a lot to explain for this chapter, but I hoped you enjoyed it. Read and review, as always. Only one more to go, an epilogue, and a character list. It's been a fun ride.


	16. Chapter 16: One Together

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **So now, this fanfic is almost at a close. Last chapter, Ralph's father suffered a medical emergency in the lead-up to Ralph and Melissa's wedding. That'll come in this chapter, as well as the gathering of the entire Raccoon family, and a few other things.

Also, if you thought the last few chapters were long, you haven't seen _anything _yet…I actually laugh looking back at Chapter 2 and saying that that was a long chapter. It certainly doesn't seem that way now!

So now, for the next to last time…

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I don't own the Raccoons…Well, you're nearing the end. And now, instead of sharing an "inspirational" quote or an opinion/question to pose to the readers, I'd like to take this opportunity to share one of the most inspiring stories of bravery I've ever heard: the story of 1970s Indy Car driver Jimmy Caruthers. Caruthers was a promising young driver from Anaheim, California who had a family history of racing and through the early '70s was competing full time in both the USAC Champ Car (Indy Car) Division and the USAC Silver Crown Division (midget cars). He finished 5__th__ in 1974 Champ Car points despite not winning a race due to being very consistent. However, in early 1975, the promising youngster suddenly became ill early in the year. He was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and it was already too late for treatment-the disease would be terminal. Caruthers had only a few months to live. Despite the death sentence hanging over his head, Caruthers was determined to not let this bring him down…he continued to compete full time in both series that year despite the fact he was already wasting away due to the cancer. He qualified 10__th__ for that year's Indy 500 and finished in 14__th__ place, and had his best season ever in the Silver Crown series, winning a bunch of races and entering the last race of the year with an opportunity to win the championship. Despite his already advanced detiration from the disease, Caruthers finished 3__rd__ in the season finale, and won the Silver Crown championship…while dying. By this time his disease was so advanced that he was already close to death. He would never even have the chance to be awarded his trophy…just a little over a month after claiming the title, Caruthers passed away at just 30 years of age from his cancer. Now THAT, I think, is true courage right there. Continuing to do what you love even while dying, and succeeding at it. There's a very old book out there about Caruthers and his story, and there were apparently plans to make a movie about his story that ended up falling through (a shame…)_

_Now that I have shared that, let's dive in one more time into…_

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: One Together**

It took a few hours, but my dad ended up making it through his surgery. He'd greatly feared that he wouldn't make it out of this alive, but he did. Within a couple of weeks Dad was right back up on his feet again.

But he found things quite difficult for himself. J. Marvin Mills had fired him from his job due to his heart attack; which as I mentioned, was _not_ right of him. He tried to get his job back, but J. Marvin wouldn't even _allow_ him near the place. As such, Dad found himself falling on hard times and struggling financially.

It reached its peak one night when he visited Mike's Beer Emporium. Dad found himself with no money to pay for his beer, so he asked Mike if he could cover this by adding it to his bar tab, which, as mentioned, already had three-hundred dollars on it he had yet to pay.

"No, Art, I can't possibly do that. Sorry," Mike had told my father.

"What? Why not, Mike? I've been coming here the past five years, not to mention our children will be getting married within a little over a month-I believe you owe me an explanation!" my father had angrily shouted at Mike.

Mike had calmly responded, "You want me to be honest, Art? Honestly, I don't believe you'll ever find another job and thus you'll never be able to pay me back. How can I possibly cover you? It wouldn't be right of me to do that."

"Oh…" my father had said, slinking out of the bar, depressed.

"Don't worry, Art," Mike had called to him as he left. "You might not be able to come here anymore, but we're still friends. Plus our kids' wedding's still on, ya know!"

That didn't help cheer up my father one bit. Adding to his depression was some news Dr. Canard had told him while in hospital right after his triple bypass. "Mr. Raccoon, it would be wise of you to cut back on the amount of unhealthy food you eat; otherwise I expect we'll be seeing you a lot more often around here!" My father misunderstood Dr. Canard-he interpreted that as meaning he could _never_ eat anything fatty again, as he assumed that it would probably kill him. Thus, my dad had ended up severely adjusting his diet and as such had become even more depressed as he was deprived of the foods he dearly loved.

One day Melissa spoke to me about it.

"Ralph, your dad's absolutely miserable. Ever since he had his heart attack, he's had such a hard time. He can't even drink anymore; that's how miserable he is."

"I know," I replied to her, "but what can we do? J. Marvin Mills won't take him back and no other place seems to want to hire him. Seems J. Marvin spread the word about my Dad's poor work record around the whole Forest."

"It isn't right," Melissa said, sympathetically. "Sure, your dad might not be the brightest bulb on a Christmas tree, but he didn't deserve to get fired for a medical emergency that was beyond his control. It's not right."

"What can I do about it?" I said, lowly. "We've tried to help him, but there doesn't seem to be anything that we can do…"

Bert gleefully answered that. "I know!" Bert had been thinking of a way to help my father out since his trouble. "I'll put a good word in for him at Willow's Store!"

"That's a good idea, Bert!" Melissa said. "Maybe Mr. Willow will hire your father, Ralph."

"They go a long way back, I sure do hope it works out," I replied.

Bert ended up indeed doing just that. By the middle of April, Mr. Willow had indeed decided to hire my father. Dad ended up taking the job Bert had vacated to practice gigs with the Flying Aces. He began stacking objects on the shelves. Mr. Willow and my dad really _did_ go a long way back-the two of them had gone to elementary and high school together. Mr. Willow had actually been one of the few friends my father had actually had during his school days. Mr. Willow had once told me about some of my dad's misadventures during their school days. "Say, Ralph," he told me one day while I was picking up groceries from his store, "I don't know if you knew this, but your father…used to eat crayons when we were in elementary school together. He used to take them out of the box and eat them one by one. It's a good thing they were non-toxic, otherwise, well, I don't think you'd be here now!" He laughed. "He doesn't still do that, does he?"

"If he does, I haven't seen him do it, Mr. Willow," I remarked.

Time, however, had not proven to be kind to their childhood friendship. The two had significantly drifted apart, and no sooner had he gotten the job than he immediately started complaining about being overworked.

As for Mike Mulligan, he was still having a hard time dealing with his daughter and myself preparing to get married. I imagined that giving away Melissa at our wedding would be the saddest day of his whole life…well, second saddest, after the day his wife died.

In the meantime, Bert was all gearing up to head off to Vancouver with his band come July. Bert already had planned out what material he wanted on the hopeful Flying Aces' debut album-he was going to record eight songs that I had co-written with him. He promised that he would credit me in the album's credits. Not only that, he promised that I would receive royalty checks from album sales (due to having a composer's credit). While I couldn't say I enjoyed the way he'd dressed up our songs, it would definitely be nice receiving royalties from them. That would definitely help Melissa and I out in our financial situation. Humorously enough, he would be credited by his full name, which not too many people actually knew. Bert's full name was Herbert Alexander Raccoon, but he called himself Bert due to the fact that he hated his full name. A surefire way to put Bert in a bad mood was to call him Herbert. Or even worse, _Herb_. (He actually wanted to legally change his name to Bert…) Since he had a dearth of original material to record for a full 40 minute LP, Bert was planning to fill out the rest of the record with a handful of covers. I can't even remember which covers he intended for his group to perform. He even had the idea for what he wanted the album cover to look like-he wanted to have it be a rather literal version of his band's name and have himself, Donny, Don, and Clancy pose in old pilot's gear beside a vintage airplane. Bert was _definitely_ ambitious, to say the least.

One day, he actually offered me the opportunity to travel on the road with him as his roadie.

"Why would I want to be your roadie, Bert? I already told you I don't really like to be out on the road all that much…"

Bert answered that. "Don't worry about it, Ralphie boy, it won't be so bad after a while! Besides, you can take Melissa with you. She can, eh-heh, keep you _company_ on the road…"

I frowned. "Bert, I doubt she wants to travel all over the country either."

Bert sighed. "Well, it was at least worth a try…"

Even despite Bert's attempts to get the two of us to join him in the rock and roll lifestyle, we still offered Bert our support. We both wished him the best of luck out there. But as I mentioned, Melissa and I were both a little afraid for Bert-we were both afraid that his possible fame might horribly corrupt him as a person. Bert had always been a good-hearted guy deep down, but there was a good possibility fame would go to his head and he would become completely stuck up and unbearable to meet in person. Plus, there was the possibility he might run into trouble in the city; or that we might never see him again…But who knew with the current music scene? Not to mention, Bert's new bandmate, Don Ringtail, had professional experience in a band that actually had a handful of LPs out (although they were out of print by this time) and he had promised to take Bert under his songwriting wing. Maybe Bert did have a chance after all? I couldn't really say.

Melissa and I had set our wedding date; we'd be getting married on May 12th, a Saturday in that particular year. The date was already rapidly approaching, it would be only a few weeks ago. This would be the biggest day of my life; I could say that for sure.

Mother had already sent out all of our wedding invitations to my family members and some family friends. George would be coming down; he'd said he'd be taking a week off from his new job at a steakhouse in Calgary to come down and visit in time for the wedding. Not to mention, he would be bringing his family with him. Melissa had not had the opportunity to meet them, and she was already looking forward to getting to know them. It'd be quite the family gathering. Aunt Gertie would not be able to attend due to the fact that she had a motorcycle tournament that weekend, but she promised to make up for that by dropping by in the summer. I'd also tried to get Cedric to come, but he was pretty sure due to his college schedule he wouldn't be able to make it down in time. Mom had also invited her only sibling, my uncle, Geoffrey Salmond. Uncle Geoffrey lived in Vancouver and ran a Ford car dealership. He had a son about the same age as Lisa, my only cousin, Cousin Norville. They would both be coming down as well.

However, there was one person I'd hoped would show up most of all. Uncle Rocky (whom had recently retired). He still had not forgiven me for, in his words, "betraying your family heritage", but my mother and I still had hopes that our severed relationship could be patched up. She'd sent him an invitation to the wedding in the hopes that he would come from his home in Victoria and he would reaccept me as his nephew.

Sadly, that wasn't to be. One day not long before the wedding, Mom dropped by the Raccoondominium and brought me the bad news.

"Ralphie, dear, I have some really…unfortunate news for you," she said, sadly.

"What would that be?"

"Ralph, Uncle Rocky sent his invitation back in the mail. It just came back in the mail this morning. He's refused to attend your wedding…" She held up the envelope.

I should have known better. Uncle Rocky was _never _one to let a grudge go. I had been hoping for far too much.

"What does it say…?" I asked, dreading to read the words that it would contain.

"Well, Ralph, here. See for yourself," she said, handing me the envelope.

I opened up the envelope and indeed, inside, Uncle Rocky had written a letter back to my parents.

"'Dearest Millicent Raccoon and my Imbecile Brother,'" I read. "'Pleasure to hear from you again, glad to know you are well. However, I am confused by your sending of this invitation to one Ralph Raccoon's wedding. You say this character is your son. As far as I'm concerned, you only have _one _son-and I only have one nephew! And George is already married with children. Therefore, I have no choice but to decline this invitation to some imaginary wedding for your imaginary child. Regards, Roger "Rocky" Raccoon.'" Uncle Rocky had taken his hatred of me to an absolute extreme-not only had he disowned me, it was clear by now he was refusing to acknowledge the fact that I even existed! That made me feel quite sad.

Even despite my Dad's heart attack and his subsequent battle with depression after his operation, he still remained his not-so-bright self at heart. And having a triple bypass operation _certainly_ didn't prevent him from pulling off more of his antics…

* * *

><p>One day, just a couple weeks before we were married, Melissa and I were coming home to the Raccoondominium from a picnic we'd had together. Much to our surprise, waiting there for us, was my father, sitting down on our couch alongside Bert.<p>

"Dad?" I said, surprised. Dad rarely actually dropped by the Raccoondominium; when he did visit it was usually only for my birthday or some other special occasion (like Melissa and I announcing our engagement).

"Oh, hey there, sonny boy," my dad said, not so enthusiastically.

"What's the matter, Mr. Raccoon?" Melissa asked.

"Your dad's feeling depressed today, Ralph."

"Yeah…" my dad said, frowning. "Mr. Willow's had me work my damn tail off putting up the stupid cereal on the shelves and other junk this week. I'd rather be laying down carpets…"

"Already frustrated with your job? You ought to be glad you at least have a job," Melissa explained. "You're lucky Mr. Willow took pity on you and actually hired you to work at the store. That's much better than being unemployed and having no money for your beloved beer, don't you think?"

"I suppose…" my dad sighed. "But, Mr. Willow's such an ogre…"

"That's why I quit working for him," Bert said. "Besides, with my future music career, I didn't really need the job."

"Good for you," my dad said. He was stuffing peanuts in his face out of a bowl. It seemed Bert had shared them with him. Bert may have had a permanent taste for peanut butter, but that didn't mean he didn't also like the regulation peanuts themselves.

Bert and my father were watching a baseball game on TV. Dad was already down to his last peanut.

He raised it up out of the bowl. "Oh, the last peanut…" he sighed as he glared at it. "So sadly and cruelly separated from its many brothers and sisters when they were devoured. But, it's soon to join its lost brethren. For you see, they'll always be together, as long as forever lasts." That was actually fairly deep-if you really thought about it.

"I've never heard your father say something so profound," Melissa whispered to me, "and to think. It's over a peanut."

"I guess everybody has their philosophical moments now and then," I mused.

Dad reared his head back and opened his mouth. "Well, come to daddy!" he said as he closed his eyes and tossed the peanut towards his mouth.

As expected, the peanut missed his mouth altogether, flew over his head, hit Bert in the head, and went behind our couch.

"Hey, watch it!" Bert shouted as the peanut bounced off his head.

Dad just stayed there in that pose for a few seconds, until he realized something.

He opened his eyes and looked around the room quickly. "Oh dear…something didn't go quite right. Better go look for that peanut, I can't let it go to waste."

With that, Dad got off the couch and started to root around underneath the couch, trying to find his lost peanut.

"Ugh! Mr. Raccoon, you're not going to really try to find that peanut under the couch, are you?" Melissa was rather disgusted by my dad's lack of care for hygiene.

"Melissa, don't you know the rule? There's a rule that says if you can find the food on the floor in less than a minute, it's safe to eat!" My dad believed in a lot of things that were far from true.

"So unhygienic…" Melissa said, shaking her head.

"He's even worse than I am!" Bert said.

"Dad's always ate off the floor…" I added.

Dad suddenly became excited as he grabbed something underneath the couch. "Ah-HA! I've got something, I found my peanut!"

From underneath the couch, my father pulled out one of Bert's Mudman comic books. Bert had evidently lost it and it had ended up underneath the couch.

Instantly my dad looked a bit saddened. "Aw…a comic book? I wanted my peanut…"

"Hey," Bert exclaimed, "that's my lost issue of Mudman! Issue #484-Mudman Vs. The Mosquito. I was wondering where that one got off too!" Bert still read comic books and even frequently purchased them. Though he was starting to grow up and accept more responsibility, he was still immature in more than a few ways.

"Mudman?" Dad instantly became excited. "Why, I used to read Mudman comic books all the time when I was just a little kit! He's been around since almost as long as I can remember!"

"Comic books…" Melissa said. "I must confess, I never really had an interest in comic books. I knew someone in high school who had several thousand of them, though…"

I chuckled. "Sounds like quite the guy…"

"Nah, not really. He was…kind of creepy, if you know what I mean."

"Ah."

Dad quickly skimmed through the comic book. He wasn't very impressed by what he read.

"Bah, too much drama. What is this, a comic book about the planet Corny? Mudman's changed from when I was a kid…"

Bert responded excitedly, "Yes, but for the better! They added more drama to the stories-they're edgy! So much better than that goofy TV show that came on when I was a kid…" Bert was talking about the old Mudman live-action TV show that had come on when we were children. It had been goofy and campy as could possibly be; Bert blamed this show for completely ruining the critical opinion of Mudman.

"…But I liked that TV show…" my dad said, sadly in response. He _really_ had-he had watched it all the time on our local station. I never thought I'd see a grown man enjoying a children's show.

Melissa chuckled. "Men and their comic books…"

"Hey," I said to her. "I never much cared for them either."

"I can see why. People can get so obsessed with those things."

My dad was now skimming through the send-away offers in the back of the comic. _Every_ one of Bert's comic books had offers to win something; all you had to do was send the offer and the requested money and you would receive your prize in the mail within a couple of weeks. However, most of these offers were horrible, rotten scams. Bert was somewhat gullible, so he often found himself falling victim to them. More than once already I'd seen him complaining about the "cool toy" he'd sent away for being no good and falling apart.

"Hey, maybe they got a good offer in here!" my dad said, giddily.

"What good could possibly come from a comic book?" Melissa said aloud.

"Seeing what Bert's gotten from these things, not very much, I'd say," I chuckled.

"Ah, c'mon Ralph," Bert said, frowning. "They've often got some pretty cool stuff in here!"

"Yeah, and what does it do? Backfire on you."

"Only _some_ of the time, Ralphie boy!" Bert said, proudly.

"Huh. Seems more often than that," Melissa mused.

Dad shushed us.

"SHH! Quiet, all of you! I'm trying to see what they've got in here! Hmm…toy train for seven dollars. Nah. Too lame. Hypnosis wheel, send only ten dollars…when am I ever going to need one of those? Ah! This one seems promising." He began reading the particular offer aloud. "'Colonel Jethro Smith's Genuine Treasure Maps'. Uncover wealth and riches beyond your wildest dream in your very own backyard! Send us this offer and a dollar and fifty cents and we'll send you your own personalized treasure map to help you uncover your well-deserved fortune!" Dad instantly became intrigued. "Mmm," he said to himself. "Hidden treasure…OOH! In my own backyard! Wow! I never thought there was hidden treasure anywhere 'round this old forest! What an opportunity!"

I wasn't anywhere as enthusiastic as Dad was about this. Knowing the track record of these, this one just _had_ to be a scam to con unsuspecting people out of their money. And Dad would definitely be gullible and naïve enough to believe this-he believed nearly anything.

"I'll say!" Bert was excited too. "It could be quite the adventure. Searching for buried treasure! It'd all be worth it."

"You said it, Bert," my dad grinned dopily. "Why, once I find that treasure, I'll be able to sell it for millions of dollars! I won't ever have to work hard labor anymore-I'll be living on easy street!"

I shook my head. "Dad, I'm pretty sure that this is all too good to be true…"

Dad laughed. "Haha, no way, boy! It can't possibly. Only a dollar-fifty in return for millions? How can I possibly lose?" That had to be one of _the_ dumbest things I had ever heard him say.

"I don't know about that, Mr. Raccoon," Melissa said cautiously. "You'd be surprised…"

"Melissa and I just think this might be some kind of scam, is all, Dad. It might not be a very good idea to send that away," I added.

"Pah, a scam? No way, son!" He laughed rather heartily. "Besides, once I get all that money, I'll do the only honorable thing and divide it up among my family. Everyone's gonna get a little bit of the pot. George, his family, my siblings, my wife, even you two!"

"See, your dad is quite the generous man!" Bert chuckled.

"Think about it son, with the money you'll get, you could pay to have Melissa fixed up!" he laughed.

Melissa looked quite insulted by that.

"Are you saying I'm ugly, Mr. Raccoon?" she growled at him.

"I'm not quite saying that, but hey! My boy here could afford pay to have you look like one of those models in the magazines!" Dad grinned, naughtily.

I sighed. "Oh, brother…"

"Mr. Raccoon…" Melissa glared at him.

"What, isn't every young boy's dream to grow up and marry a model?" Dad asked openly.

"It was mine for sure!" Bert piped up.

"Not this boy," I said firmly. "Melissa's fine to me just the way she is. She might have her flaws, but I love her the way she is. Why would I want to change the way she looks?"

"…Huh." Dad just looked confused.

"Thanks, Ralph," Melissa smiled. "Really, I like the way I look. There's no way I'm going under the knife anytime soon."

"Bah, you two have no sense of imagination," Dad grunted. "If I had that kind of money, one of the first things I'd do is use the money to pay those quacks the money to fix up Millie! She can look young again."

"Wow…" Melissa said, taken aback by my dad's completely idiotic statement. "Are you saying you think your wife is ugly?"

"Heh, heh, no…" Dad said, nervously.

"Well, that's what it sounded like…"

"Hey, what would you guys do with a million dollars, anyway?" Bert asked rhetorically.

"Me?" I responded, "Well, I'd put it away in savings and use it when I felt I needed it most. No need to use that kind of money right away. What about you, sweetie?" I looked to Melissa.

"Well, I'd donate it to charity. Maybe to the local orphanage. They could stand to be happy, you know. So, what about you Bert?"

Bert laughed. "Use it to finance my music career, of course! We can get better equipment with that kind of money!"

"I'll never get that rocky roll…" Dad said to himself.

"What about you, Dad," I asked of him, "what would _you_ do with that kind of money, supposing that you did somehow obtain that kind of money?"

"What would I do? Mmm…" Dad closed his eyes and started rapidly twiddling his fingers. Whatever he was thinking of, it certainly couldn't be good or even remotely close to practical.

The three of us just stared at him as after a minute or so he began chuckling in a rather creepy tone. "Hee hee hee hee, hee hee hee hee!"

"Uh, Ralph? Your dad's starting to scare me…" Melissa said, looking more than a little concerned.

"He scares me all the time, this isn't new," I added.

"Say, Mr. Raccoon, you never told us what you would do with that money," Bert said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Instantly, Dad snapped out of his trance. "Ah, ah! Sorry, sorry. Got lost in thought there. Well, I suppose I'd have my body covered up in jewels and diamonds of all sorts. Oh, and gold-plated too. Then I'll be the richest man in the world. They'll have no choice but to crown me Emperor of Canada!" Dad laughed heartily to himself.

Melissa frowned. "Keep dreaming, Mr. Raccoon…"

"Ah, well, anyways, I think I better get going. I gotta mail this ad in for my treasure map so I can find the lost treasure."

As he left, I groaned. "I really hope he does forget about that…"

"I doubt he'll send it. I hope he doesn't," Melissa agreed.

"Still, it would be pretty neat to find hidden treasure, wouldn't it?"

"If you say so, Bert."

* * *

><p>A couple more weeks passed and now it was the Wednesday before our wedding. Melissa had already had her bridal shower and tonight would be a big night. George would be arriving from Calgary tonight with Nicole and the kids. Melissa, as I mentioned, was rather eager to meet her new in-laws. Dad was also looking forward to it as well; it'd been quite some time since George had come down. Dad hadn't seen Lisa and Bentley in almost four years, so he was anxious to see his grandchildren again. Bentley had been just a baby kit then, and as thus, today would be the first time he'd actually really get to meet his grandfather and grandmother. Myself, I hadn't actually been to see George since I had visited him back in 1981. Poor George had a hard time of it getting along with his bosses. This time, he hoped it wouldn't happen again. He couldn't afford to get fired; he'd already moved <em>eleven <em>times in 20 years and did not want to make it to fifteen. I hoped everything would work out for him.

Today was a fairly normal day so far. I had come home from college and was working on my assignment for the _Evergreen University Chronicle_. Bert wasn't here, but to me that wasn't too much a surprise as he was probably doing something with his band. As for Melissa, she was at her father's place, presumably going over the planning for the event. I realized that with graduation approaching, this would be one of my last articles for the _Chronicle_. Steve and Nestor, my fellow aspiring journalists, were also graduating this year. Unlike me, neither of them planned to stay here in the forest. Steve planned to head to Toronto to work for a magazine while Nestor was moving state-side to Hollywood to work on his true dream, becoming an entertainment tabloid columnist. I couldn't really see why that was actually news (personally, I didn't honestly care what big-name celebrities did in their free time!), but I was glad for him since he was going to get to live his dream. Still, in a way, it was sad to see more of the Forest's inhabitants leaving; we always seemed to be losing more people than we gained. As for myself, I'd attempted to apply to at least three newspapers in British Columbian cities around the local area; and I'd already received three rejection letters saying that basically they thanked me for my application letter, but that I was not really what they were interested in. Truthfully, I didn't want to leave the Forest, but if I _did_ find a good job offer at a paper around our province, Melissa and I would definitely move. And eventually, we almost did. But I think you know that story already. But, this did show how much I'd changed over the years. Had this been a couple years previously, I would have been disheartened about being rejected several times already and probably given up on trying to write professionally. Now, I felt confident that sooner or later, I'd be accepted by one eventually if I kept trying.

I was in the middle of furiously typing away, when presently, there came a knock upon the door.

"Hold on a minute, I'll get it!" I shouted as I raced for the door.

I was _quite_ surprised by who was standing there.

"Cedric?" What was he doing here? "Why are you here? I thought you were supposed to be at UBC?"

"Oh, hi, Ralph!" Cedric smiled. "I managed to get a few days out from college. I couldn't miss one of my oldest friend's wedding for anything in the world!"

"Does Cyril know about this?" I didn't think his Pop would approve of Cedric taking time out from college to come down here for my wedding-considering Cyril _strongly_ disliked me.

"Heh, heh, no. It's sort of a secret between me and Bert. I'm going to be staying here at the Raccoondominium until right after the wedding." That would make sense, it would explain why Bert told me there would be some kind of surprise.

"Ah, well, do come in, Cedric." We sat down on the couch beside each other and chatted.

"So how are things back at UBC, Cedric?" I asked him.

"They're going great, Ralph. I've been involved in quite a few activities there; I'm the leader of a couple of clubs, actually!"

"Wow. A club leader. That's quite impressive, Cedric. That'll look good on your resume, no doubt!"

Cedric laughed. "Ralph, I'm going to work with my Pop full-time once I do graduate. Pop'll be impressed with my resume no matter what I do. He's always been proud of me!"

"Ah, I honestly forgot about that…" I could still be quite forgetful about some things, I really had forgotten that he was planning to work with Cyril full-time.

"It's no problem. So, Ralph, congratulations on your upcoming marriage! Are you excited about that?" Cedric asked.

"You bet I am, Cedric. It's going to be the biggest day of my life. I wish it would hurry up and get here already."

Cedric chuckled to himself. "You know, it's funny, Ralph…"

I was confused. "What's so funny?"

Cedric answered, "Back in high school you never thought you'd ever get a girlfriend. You thought you'd always be alone."

"So I did…" Things might have been looking up big-time, but I still didn't like to talk about those days very much.

"Now look at you, Ralph. Not only were you the first one out of all us to actually have a steady relationship, you're the first one of us to get married!"

"I know…" I said. It was really amazing how time did change things.

"I told you someday all that hard work would pay dividends for you, Ralph!"

"And all it took was for me to believe in myself." I smiled. "So, Cedric," I changed the subject, "George and his family are coming down tonight for the wedding. Tomorrow they are planning to have a large family barbeque. Will you be attending that?"

Cedric shook his head. "No, Ralph. Bert and I are planning to go down to our old fishing hole to try to catch Old Tom. This might be the last chance we get to try to catch him together before Bert leaves for the city and his music career. For, you know, we might never see him again." I sighed, that _was_ a distinct possibility. This might be the last time Cedric and Bert saw each other in person, they had to make the most of it. We'd tried to catch Old Tom every summer since we were young children, but not once had we succeeded. Maybe this year Bert and Cedric would finally catch him.

"I understand, Cedric."

At that moment, another knock came at the door.

"Hold it right there, Cedric. I'll go get that."

It was none other than my mother. And she looked visibly concerned.

"Mom? What's the matter? What are you doing here?" I was a little bit confused.

"Ralphie dear, it's your father. He's gone missing." Great. Dad had run off somewhere and now we would probably have to track him down. "I went to run a few errands about town and discuss the wedding plans with Mike and Melissa. But when I got back, your father was gone. He was supposed to be home from work today...Cedric? What are you doing here?" My mother was a little surprised to see Cedric here; she also knew he went to college far away.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Raccoon," Cedric replied. I've come down to see your son's wedding. It was a surprise. I see you're having a family crisis?"

"Yes, Cedric. I'm quite worried…"

"Huh," I said, a little confused. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Well, I found this letter on our dining room table when I got home," Mom replied.

"May I see it, Mom?" I asked her.

"Sure, Ralphie. Here you go." She handed me the letter. Before me was some of the ugliest handwriting I'd ever seen and several things crossed out on it.

I read from it. "Deer Millie, Bert and I have-gone to Freen's Peek to find the hiden treasur." Sure enough, it had been written by Dad. Unlike me, Dad was a _horrendous_ speller. That part had been crossed out and below it, the letter said, "floo into spac to go meatyor huntin." That too was crossed out, and below that, it said, "turned invisable, but weer right hear anyways." That was _also _crossed out, and last but not least, not crossed out, it said, "went fishin'. Yor Luven Husbend, Arthur Racoon."

I slapped myself in the face. "Oh no," I said to myself. "He didn't." I knew exactly what Dad and Bert had done. I had hoped Dad would forget all about that offer in the comic book. It turned out, he _hadn't_…

"Your father and Bert went to Freen's Peak?" Cedric asked curiously.

"Oh, I can't believe him!" My mother was upset.

"I can't believe it either. He really _did_ send that Colonel Jethro Smith offer in. Good grief...I guess we're going to have to get him and Bert down from up there before they really get into trouble." I was not looking forward to climbing Freen's Peak to try to get the both of them down before they killed themselves searching for fictitious treasure. I was most concerned about my father; his heart not being so good now, it _certainly_ could not be good for him to be climbing a mountain for treasure.

"I can't go get him," my mother said, sadly. "I'm not a good climber. Ralph, Cedric, you'll go bring them back, right?"

Cedric nodded his head. "We'll do that, Mrs. Raccoon. Come on Ralph, we may as well go right now."

I sighed. "I guess we'll miss George and the kids then…"

My mother called after us. "Take Melissa with you," she said.

"We'll go get her too, Mom, don't worry," I replied.

Soon, Cedric and I reached the Mulligan residence. Melissa was in the front garden, plucking a turnip from the ground.

"Oh, hi, honey," she smiled. "I was just planting crops one last time…once we move into the Raccoondominium together, I'll set up our own garden." She then noticed Cedric. "Cedric…? What are you doing here?"

"Melissa, we have no time to explain," I said urgently.

"What's the matter?"

"It's Dad."

"Mr. Raccoon and Bert have gone up Freen's Peak looking for hidden treasure. We need to get them down before they get into trouble," Cedric quickly explained.

"Oh, goodness," Melissa grimaced, shaking her head. "No offense, Ralph, really, but your father is _definitely_ not the sharpest tack in the box, if you know what I mean."

"I had to live with him for nearly twenty years, I would know that first-hand," I laughed.

"Seriously, I wonder sometimes how your mother ever managed to put up with him for almost forty years. I would never be able to do that," Melissa chuckled.

"Well, Mom says Dad's…stupidity can be endearing…in _certain _occasions…"

"We've no time to waste," Cedric said, looking to both of us. "Let's get them down now before anything bad happens."

"Right behind you, Cedric," Melissa said as the three of us headed for Freen's Peak.

It would take about two hours, but at last, we managed to reach the summit of Freen's Peak.

Sure enough, there was my father. Sitting on top of a rock, moping. Bert was standing off to the side, holding a shovel.

"Dammit!" Dad growled, looking towards Bert. "There isn't any treasure up here, Bert?"

"It doesn't seem so," Bert said, sadly as he threw his shovel down. He came to sit beside my father.

Dad took the map and angrily crumpled it up into a ball. "Well, goddammit! I've been ripped off! Those bastards promised me there'd be treasure right up here! 'X marks the spot!' Well, there's no damn treasure here! I ought to sue those assholes for false advertisement!"

I shouted out at him. "DAD!"

Dad looked up at the three of us.

"Boy? Melissa? Junior Vacuum?" Junior Vacuum was what my dad had always called Cedric. "Heheh, so nice to see you! Bert and I were just, uh…having a good time looking at nature from up here! Yeah, that's it! Heheh!"

"No need to lie to us, Mr. Raccoon. We know exactly what you and Bert have been up to," Melissa glared at him.

"Bert, how could you and Mr. Raccoon fall for this? I thought you knew better than to help him with these crazy schemes of his, you're bound to end up hurt!" Cedric was disappointed in Bert.

"I thought Mr. Raccoon would need help finding treasure…" he said, ashamedly. He couldn't believe he'd fallen for this.

"Well," I shouted at him, "you two have only yourselves to blame for this."

"I can't believe they ripped me off…" Dad growled.

"No time to argue about that," Melissa said to him. "We need to get you two back home. I imagine your wife is going to have some pretty stern words for you, Mr. Raccoon."

"B-b-but I was only trying to-" he spluttered, pathetically.

"No buts, Dad," I said. "Let's get going."

"But…but…it's such a long walk…I'm exhausted! I can't make it back…"

"Not to worry, Mr. Raccoon," Cedric said, "we'll help you down."

* * *

><p>It was later that evening. Cedric and Bert were staying at the Raccoondominium together while Melissa and I were at my parents' place. Dad had needed considerable help getting down from Freen's Peak. As expected, Mom had given him quite a tongue lashing for going off to try to find buried treasure without telling her beforehand. We'd had dinner by now and we were waiting for George and Nicole to arrive from Calgary with the kids.<p>

"They should be here any minute," I said, glancing at the clock. It was nearly 8:30 P. M.

"Boy, I can't wait 'till George gets here," Dad said, excitedly. "It's been ages since I've seen that boy. Can't wait until he bakes one of those pies for me again! Mmm…pie…" Dad started drooling, and then wiped his chin off. "Damn, I'm proud of that boy." It was no secret that although my Dad loved both of us, he definitely preferred George over myself. It certainly didn't hurt that George was a chef-Dad, being the heavy eater he always had been, was extremely proud to say he had fathered a chef.

"I can't wait to meet them, honey," Melissa smiled at me. "My new in-laws. I do wonder what they're like?"

"Well, George is an alright guy. He used to be a lot more like Bert when he was younger, but he kind of had to grow up," I chuckled. "As for Nicole, I don't know her the best, but she's pretty nice."

"Oh yeah, George's wife," my dad said absentmindedly. "She's German isn't she?"

Mother quickly corrected him. "No, dear. Nicole is French."

Dad looked shocked by those words. "What? Those surrender-monkeys live up here in Canada? When did this happen?" Dad did not know a whole lot about his own country.

"Mr. Raccoon, does the word 'Quebec' mean anything to you?" Melissa asked of him.

"Hmm. Oh yeah, that's right. Sorry, my brain's not too good…"

"Figured as much…" I mused to myself.

"Well, I _really_ can't wait to see my grandkids. Been ages since I've seen them! D'ya think Lisa'll still like horseback riding?" The last time George and his family'd come to visit, Lisa had been only seven and Dad had frequently tried to entertain her by allowing her to ride on his back as if he was a thoroughbred horse. It'd been…quite embarrassing a sight, Dad ended up tearing up a lot of our furniture.

"She's eleven now," I explained. "I think she might be a little bit too old for that by now."

"Aww…but I was looking forward to that…Well, do you think she and my grandson will remember me? Whatever his name is?" Dad had honestly forgotten Bentley's name.

"His name's Bentley, dear," my mother explained.

"Bentley? Why the hell did George name his boy after a car?" Dad looked taken aback.

"He's not named after the car company," Mom explained. "He's named for my grandfather, Bentley Salmond."

Dad still didn't quite get it. "I still don't understand why anyone would name their kid Bentley…"

"Never mind," I said, realizing he'd never get it.

"Boy, I can't wait 'til that kid turns fifteen. When he turns fifteen, I'm gonna show him all the fun beer games I used to play when I was fifteen." I was a bit surprised: Dad already was planning to introduce Bentley to beer!

"Why would you do that?" Melissa asked.

"Well, it seems that the love for beer skipped a generation." I knew he was referring to George and myself, I had not been interested in learning these "beer games", and George hadn't either. George _did_ have a few every now and then, but he and I were far from alcoholics, while my Dad…definitely straddled the line of being one. "So, maybe he'll be interested!"

"I don't know about that…"I said to myself.

"Art, you're not giving Bentley beer. He's not even six years old yet! You give him beer at that age, who knows what it'll do to him…"

At that moment, we heard a radio blaring outside of my parents' tree and a car horn honking several times.

"Ah, that must be them!" I replied.

"Oh boy!" Dad grinned as he clenched his paws together. "Pies, coming my way!"

"We'll go get that," Melissa said as she and I opened the door and headed out into the twilight sky.

Sure enough, George's Gremlin greeted us there, the headlights shining brightly. I barely suppressed laughter-he _still_ had the Gremlin! He actually ended up keeping that thing until it finally completely broke down altogether (which was about three or four years ago). George and Nicole were seated in the front seats while Lisa and Bentley were crammed in the back (it was a tight fit). George was tapping his finger on the steering wheel along to the song playing on the radio station while Nicole nodded her head along to it. Lisa and Bentley grimaced as George began air-guitaring along to the song's guitar solo.

"Dad!" I heard Lisa shout. "We're already here, please, turn the dinosaur music off!"

"Yes, father," Bentley added, "enough of that."

"But kids," George said. "This is your dad's favorite song! I don't want to leave until I hear the whole thing!"

"Ugh!" Lisa groaned.

George finished air-guitaring and began singing along. Melissa couldn't help but chuckle.

"_Bein' drunk and weary_

_I went to my Molly's chamber_

_Takin' my Molly with me_

_But I never knew the danger!_

_For about six, or maybe seven_

_In walked Captain Ferrell_

_I jumped up; fired off my pistols_

_And I shot him with both barrels!"_

I figured I'd best get George's attention and save the kids the headache of listening to this song. (It wasn't an awful song, but they clearly didn't like it, so it was for the best.)

I tapped on the hood of the Gremlin.

"Oh, there you are!" George exclaimed as he rolled down the window and turned down the radio. "Good to see you, little brother. Goodness. It _has_ been way too long since we've last seen each other, hasn't it?"

"Well, I'll say. It's been…how long…three years, almost?" It really _had_ been too long since we'd seen each other.

"Thank goodness, Uncle Ralph!" Lisa was quite relieved that her father had turned the radio way down. "I've had to listen to this ancient garbage nearly the whole way here!"

"Liza," Nicole scolded. "Your father's muzic iz not garbage."

"Yes it is, Mom! Why couldn't he listen to something good, like Owlivia Newton-John?"

"Ugh…" George cringed.

Melissa laughed. "I see you and your daughter have very different tastes in music."

George sighed. "Very much so. I can't understand today's music trends at all, the music I loved as a kit and through the '60s and '70s is dying out and being replaced with all this…new stuff. That I can't say I like."

"Dad, no offense, but that's because your music is old. It isn't cool anymore, and nobody besides you and Mom even listens to that stuff now. No one will remember in it twenty years!" Lisa was positively ashamed of her father's taste in music. I figured most kids hated their parents' musical tastes and vice versa; and this certainly went a long way towards proving it. George looked pretty saddened hearing those words from his own daughter.

"Liza, thez song iz not that old. It is only az old az you are!" Nicole was disappointed in her daughter's behavior, for sure.

"That's still too old, Mom," Lisa said to herself.

"Older than I am!" Bentley piped in the back seat.

"Well, anyways…" George said, changing the subject. "Great to see you again, Ralph. I do wish we could see each other more often. But, I don't know I can make that happen. But hey, I had to come down here to see my little brother get married! You all came to my wedding, I ought to return the favor!" I remembered George's wedding. It hadn't been…the happiest of weddings. George had been forced into marrying Nicole by her father, Francois, in order to avoid her having an illegitimate child (Lisa). Nicole had been quite visibly pregnant, I remembered. Dad had made an absolute ass out of himself and had gotten himself thrown out of the church as he showed up drunk to the wedding and got into an argument with Francois.

"Who could ever forget that?" I laughed. It was funny now, but back then it was rather horribly embarrassing.

"Oh, I know, I know! Ah, and you," George looked to Melissa, as she smiled at him, "You must be Melissa, the bride-to-be! The little she-devil who stole my brother's heart away! You have to tell me all about it."

"That's me!" She said proudly. "And I will, soon enough. Ralph's told me quite a bit about you. So, you are a chef?"

"I am, but I would not say I'm the best in the world," George sighed. "I've been fired so many times and had to move around so many times as well. I think I've seen almost the whole country by now. I wish I could just work in one restaurant and stick with it…"

"Perhaps you'll have better luck in Calgary?" Melissa asked, hopefully.

"Looks that way so far, but the last time everything looked well I ended up getting laid off to make room for a new employee. I sure hope I can make this last…"

"You know, George, I did suggest you could always be your own boss…" I remarked.

"Hehheh, I've thought about that, little brother, but I'm just not sure. I'm just not sure…" he repeated to himself.

"Well, that's always a good option to keep in mind," Melissa added.

"True, true…Alright kids, let's get on out of the car. I really need a rest after driving all this way…"

Lisa and Bentley got out of the car first.

I noticed at this moment Lisa had _really_ grown since the last time I'd seen her. She was only eleven and she was already almost as tall as Melissa and I were! Then again, the both of us were fairly short, but still, it was quite a surprise.

"Wow, Lisa," I remarked. "Really had a growth spurt there, didn't you?"

"Looks that way, Uncle Ralph," Lisa chuckled. "Guess what?"

"What's that?" I asked of her.

"I made my school's junior girls' basketball team for next year!" She sounded proud.

"Really, that's great, Lisa! How good do you think you are?"

"I think I'll do outstanding, Uncle Ralph! I'm really good at lay-up shots." Lisa was really confident in her abilities.

"Wish you luck, Lisa," Melissa encouraged her. "Oh, I didn't introduce myself to you, did I?"

"I know who you are, you're our new Aunt Melissa. Uncle Ralph sent us a picture of you two last year." I remembered that; George had asked for a photograph of the two of us (as he'd heard so much about her and yet never seen her; he basically wanted proof that she actually existed) and I had sent one of us (taken at the local bowling alley if I remember right) to them. "So," Lisa continued, "you two are getting married?"

"That's right," I declared, proudly.

"That should be exciting; I've never been to a wedding before. I'm apparently supposed to be the flower girl, I wonder what I'm going to do?" Lisa indeed was going to be the flower girl, while young Bentley was going to be the ring bearer.

"We'll have rehearsal," Melissa told her. "You'll see." She then looked to Bentley, who was already fiddling with a calculator. He still didn't have a computer yet, but at this time George had already bought him a calculator and a dictionary.

"So you must be little Bentley," she smiled at him.

Bentley momentarily looked up from his calculator. "Oh, and you are Aunt Melissa. Nice to make your acquaintanceship," he said as he shook her paw and quickly went back to typing in numbers on his calculator.

"Smart kid," Melissa whispered to me.

"Sure would seem that way."

George and Nicole began to exit the Gremlin after a few minutes as well. George looked close to exhausted.

"Tired from that long drive?" Melissa asked curiously.

"Oh, you bet," George sighed as we began heading towards the house. "Almost ten hours on the road…it should be illegal to have to drive that far. I've had to make long drives like these many times andI _still_ haven't gotten used to them."

"A rezt will do some good," Nicole admitted.

I decided to poke fun at George for a little bit. Not mean-spiritedly, mind you, just in good nature.

"You _still_ drive the Gremlin, George?"

"Oh, please," he said, a bit annoyed by that. "I'm getting really, really tired of everybody calling my car a piece of junk."

"My dad had one when I was in high school," Melissa added (I honestly did not know this), "and it was a really bad car. It broke down after just over a year. He sold it."

"Well, I don't get all the bad press this car gets," George responded, "what gives people the right to criticize the car if they haven't owned one? They wouldn't understand until they've gotten to drive one."

"George, I think you love your car a little too much sometimez…" Nicole said, shaking her head.

"Best car I ever owned," he said to himself.

I laughed. "Better than the Bus!" It was true: George had once owned a Volkswagen Bus in the late '60s. You see, while I might have been something of a hippie at heart, George had been the authentic deal, he had been a real late '60s hippie. I still remember when he came home to visit in 1969; he came home driving the bus, wearing the traditional headband, a vest, a peace necklace, and he'd even tye-died up his tail. He looked absolutely ridiculous looking back at it now. Sure, I might have been able to sympathize with their causes, but that didn't mean I wanted to adopt their styles and mannerisms!

"Ugh, must you keep reminding me of that?" he groaned.

"You were a hippie, huh?" Melissa asked.

George nodded. "Old shame," he admitted.

Dad was waiting at the door for us.

"If it isn't old George! My God, it's been ages since I've seen ya, boy!" He put George in a headlock and rubbed his knuckle atop George's head. (This was his trademark way of greeting close family). "How the hell have you been, George?"

"Ah, I've been fine, Dad. Getting back on my feet now in Calgary. I think you heard that?"

Dad looked confused. "Calgary? Where's that? Is that by Charlottetown?" I have no idea why Dad seemed to like Charlottetown so much, but he evidently believed it was our nation's capital and constantly referred to it.

"No, Dad. It's only a province over in Alberta. But it was a loooonnng drive, let me tell you. Boy, I need to sit down…So, Ralph told me you had a heart attack a few months ago. Are you doing alright?"

"I suppose so…but I lost my job. And now I have to work for Mr. Willow…grr, stupid Mr. Willow…"

George replied, "Well, any job's better than no job!"

Dad looked to Nicole. "Ah, I see ya brought your wife with you, good to see you, uh, uh, uh, what's your name again?" Dad always seemed to forget Nicole's name. He frequently forgot a _lot_ of things.

Nicole frowned. "Nicole," she sighed. I knew for a fact that Nicole had never liked my father; it had all stemmed back to when she first met him, at her wedding. His atrocious behavior had definitely _not _endeared him to her.

"Ah, ah, sorry, sorry. I keep forgetting that. Good to see ya too."

Nicole sighed as she and George went into the house with their belongings they'd brought with them. I heard her mutter to herself, "Not so good to zee thez imbecile…"

My dad was excited to see Lisa and Bentley. "Lisa, my granddaughter!" he said as he stooped down to hug her. "My goodness, you have grown! Damn, I almost didn't recognize you at first!"

"It's good to see you, Grandpa. Feels like it's been ages!" Lisa laughed.

"Sure has. Say, are ya up for a horseback ride?" Dad asked. He still hoped Lisa would still enjoy the idea of riding on his back like he was a racehorse.

Lisa laughed. "Oh, no, Grandpa. I'm too big for that now, sorry."

Dad looked sad. "Oh…'

Then he greeted Bentley. "Bentley, my little grandson! Good gravy, last time I saw you you were wearing diapers!" He scooped Bentley up and hugged him.

Bentley looked a little surprised, but grinned anyways. "Ah, nice meeting you, Grandpa Arthur. I have heard a lot about you from Mom. Most of it not being very flattering at all…"

That was news to my dad. As he placed Bentley back down, he asked him, "What kinds of things?"

"That you were a simpleton, an idiotic man-child, and had too many screws loose," Bentley said calmly.

"…Smart kid…" Dad said to himself. He instantly frowned. "Thanks, Bentley. I needed to hear that…" he sighed.

"You're welcome, Grandpa," Bentley said.

* * *

><p>The next day, it was the big family barbeque. George had grilled up a ton of barbeque for everybody.<p>

Mom was busy talking with Melissa and Nicole, probably about some last minute plans for the wedding. Lisa was talking with Cousin Norville, who had come down in the morning with his father, Uncle Geoffrey. (It was kind of funny Norville was Lisa's uncle, considering he was about the same age as her!) Uncle Geoffrey was chatting with George as he finished grilling the last batch of barbeque. And my Dad? Well, he was busy trying to show Bentley something...

"So, Bentley," Dad asked him, while Bentley was still busy typing away at his calculator.

"Yes, Grandpa?" Bentley said, not even looking up from the calculator at Dad.

"Look at this." Dad held up a beer can in front of Bentley. "Do you see this?"

"Yes, I see it," Bentley said, a little annoyed. "What about it?"

"This is called beer. Do you know what beer is, grandson?" Dad was already trying to introduce Bentley to beer, like he said he'd do last night.

"Yes, I know what beer is, Grandpa. I heard beer is very bad for you and causes damage to your liver. I don't want any of it." Bentley went back to typing.

Dad looked shocked.

"Jumping Jiminy Crickets!" he exclaimed. "The kid is only five years old and already he thinks beer is bad for you! My God, what the hell has our country come to? Our government's brainwashing kids into thinking beer is bad! AAAAAAUGGGHHH!" Dad screamed.

Nicole saw this out the corner of her eye. "I will never, ever underztand how you put up with him, Mrs. Raccoon…"

Mom sighed. "It takes a lot of patience, let me tell you…"

Melissa laughed. "More patience than most people have!"

Dad then proceeded to wonder aloud. "Say, where are Bert and Junior Vacuum? Weren't they supposed to be here?"

George looked curious as well. "I noticed. Where are Bert and Cedric? It's been ages since I've seen the two of them, I was looking forward to talking to them again…"

Melissa fielded the answer to that one. "Bert and Cedric are off today fishing for Old Tom. You see, Bert's leaving for the city in a little over a month and this'll probably be the last chance the two of them have to spend friendly time together."

"He iz going to be a profezzional musician, izn't he?" Nicole asked.

"That's his plan," I responded.

At this moment, George sat down beside me and struck up a conversation with me.

"If I haven't said this already, congratulations, Ralph," he said. "I know you've probably gotten a lot of those, anyways…"

"Well, of course I have," I chuckled. "But thanks, George. This is…well, this is definitely the biggest moment of my life so far."

"Well, the only thing bigger than that is the birth of your children, I think. Speaking of which, you two are planning on having kids, right?"

I had already discussed that with Melissa. That had actually been one of the first things we'd discussed about our future lives together.

"Someday, perhaps…" I admitted. "But, now? I don't think I'm quite ready to handle children. Being married is a big enough responsibility enough, I'm not really prepared to handle having kids on top of that yet. That's an even _bigger _responsibility."

"Don't I know it!" We both laughed. "Seriously, though, you're right there, Ralph. Maybe it is best if you wait a while. Hey. At least you were smart enough to not knock her up before you got married. What do you know-you really_ are_ smarter than me!"

"Well, I kind of couldn't do anything with her…" I admitted. "Her Dad said he'd pull my spine out if he found out we'd done it before we got married." Which was true-Mike had warned me about that _countless_ times. He really and truly was determined Melissa did not make the same mistake her mother had. (He-and for that matter, I myself-didn't even know that she'd lost it to Troy Malone…)

"Hah, one of those fathers, right?" George laughed. Francois had been like that-he'd threatened to kill George for getting Nicole pregnant and had forced him into marrying her. Poor George.

"He's alright. A really lonely man though. You see, his wife died over twenty years ago, and ever since then he's been miserably depressed…"

"Ah, sounds like a lonely guy, indeed," George mused. "Well, anyways, like I said, good on you Ralph. You were smart enough not to knock her up first. You're marrying her of your own accord. I wish I'd have done that. But we both figured 'what are the odds of pregnancy resulting from this? Low enough to not be a concern.' Not very smart of us. I mean, I would have married her anyways, eventually, but I didn't want to get married or be a father _that_ damn soon." It seemed a lot of the people in my family or close to my family had made a lot of mistakes, George was still a little shamed he'd done that.

"At least you were able to accept responsibility for that," I replied. Something seemed odd. Where was Mike? We'd invited him to this barbeque, and yet he hadn't even showed up. This was supposed to be an opportunity for him to meet some of his in-laws; the new family he had ties to. So where the hell was he?

"Melissa," I asked, "have you seen your father? It seems pretty strange he hasn't showed up yet…"

Melissa shrugged. "Sorry, honey. I haven't seen him all day today. I don't know where he could be."

George spoke to me again. "Say, Ralph. Nicole and I've been discussing something over the past few months. It concerns little Bentley."

I was curious. "What could be the problem with him? Other than the fact, that well, he seems to be awfully engrossed with that calculator…"

George chuckled. "No, no, Ralph, Bentley's not having any problems. Remember the last time you came to visit me? When I lived in Ottawa? I still can't believe I got fired from that job-they kept Freddie Crawford longer than they did me! And that guy blew up the chicken in the stove!"

"Not extremely well," I admitted, "but yes. That was before Melissa and I were even dating."

"You remember you and Bentley had a lot of fun playing together, don't you?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I do."

"Well, Nicole and I have been doing some discussing, and we've decided that starting next year, we're going to send him here to the Forest for a few weeks to stay with you. We haven't told him about it yet, but the both of us think it'd be a good opportunity for you two to bond, uncle to nephew."

"Huh, that should be an interesting experience…" I mused. I glanced over at Bentley, Dad was still trying to get Bentley to play with him. He wasn't getting anywhere, though, as Bentley was ignoring him and still busy fidgeting with his calculator.

"Hey, think about it Ralph. Not only that, it could be a good opportunity for you and Melissa. You know, to see how well you two do with looking after a kid. Who knows? If you two think you do a good enough job, it might influence you two, you know, to think about having children of your own." George did have a point; that would probably be a good way of determining whether the two of us would be able to handle the responsibility of having kids. Still, I wasn't too sure that kids were right for me…

"Well, we'll see, George. I just don't know if kids are something I could take care of, you know."

"Ah, I understand. Still, it'll be a good experience for the two of you, I believe. Oh, one more thing, Ralph. Bentley's birthday's coming up soon. July 20th, he'll be six years old. Nicole and I have a very special birthday present planned for his birthday." I wondered what they would buy him.

"What would that be, George?" I asked.

"Shh," George said, whispering to me, "don't let Bentley find out about this ahead of time, but we're buying him a computer for his birthday."

"A computer?" I was a little surprised. I didn't even know they had computers available for the home market. "How much money is that going to put you in the hole, George?" As far as I knew, the only computers around were massive and took up an entire room.

"Quite a bit, I'd say. But that's what he asked us for, and it's what we're going to get him. My co-worker, Fayne Stewart, bought one of them for his son earlier this year, and that's what got Bentley interested in getting one for himself. Bentley's already pretty fascinated by technology, but as for me? I don't think I really understand this modern technology. Boy, Ralph, the times, they really ARE a-changin'. That song still rings true today!"

I had to agree with him on that. "I don't really get a lot of this new technology either. But how on earth are you going to be able to fit a computer in your house, George? Those things take up whole rooms, you know…"

George laughed. "I thought that too, for the longest time, but you see, they're making them a lot smaller now. They actually are making them for the home market now. They're not too big, small enough to easily fit in a home now. I know, Fayne took me to the local store that's selling them. They're not much bigger than our own heads."

"Hmm…" I mused. "Technology still marches on…"

"Oh, I know, that, but you know what? The guy running that store's a bit of a kook, if you know what I mean. He said one day, there will be a computer in every home and everyone will spend a lot of time using one."

I had to laugh at that, it didn't seem to me like there was a whole lot of reason to have one. "That's a good one, I don't really see how they're practical at all."

"But you know what the funniest thing is?" George quipped. "The guy said that one day computers will replace books and typewriters! He said in twenty years, nobody will have a typewriter anymore, they'll be using a computer. Can you believe that?"

I had a good laugh at that. "That'll be the day. I don't see that ever happening, I'm sure people will stick to the good old typewriter for decades to come." It was funny then, but looking at how things are turning out now, it looks like it's beginning to come true. At this rate, it won't be much longer before I have to part with the typewriter Melissa bought me for my birthday…

At that moment, none other than Mike Mulligan showed up.

"Dad!" Melissa exclaimed. "Where have you been? We were waiting for you to show up! I think you missed out on the barbeque, though," she chuckled.

"Sorry, sweetheart, Daddy had to do some errands around town. I lost track of the time."

Dad shouted gleefully to Mike, "Hey, Mike! Why don't ya step up and meet the rest of your new family?"

Uncle Geoffrey introduced himself to Mike. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mulligan. I am Geoffrey Salmond, Millicent Raccoon's brother. And this is my son, Norville." Norville waved to Geoffrey.

"Hello," he said.

"Nice to meet the both of ya," Mike said as he took a drawl off of his Manitoba brand cigarette (which was the official brand of our Mounties).

George stood up to speak to Mike. "You are the bride's father?"

"Yep, that's me," Mike said, unenthusiastically.

"Funny. I would have guessed by looking at you that you were her grandfather."

"Good God, I _have_ aged that badly," Mike sighed. "I'm only forty-five!"

"Only forty-five? Wow. You're only a few years older than I am, and yet you look like you're older than my own father," George said, a little surprised. "Say, what happened to your eye?" George had taken notice of Mike's eyepatch.

Melissa answered that. "It's a bit of a long story, I'm sure he can share it with you later."

Mike asked George, "So, who are ya? Are you another one of Ralph's uncles?"

George laughed. "Uncle? Nah! I'm his brother, George!"

Mike rubbed his chin. "Hmm…Kid," he said, looking to me, "you never told me you had a brother."

"I didn't…" I realized I hadn't. "Well, you know him now."

"Well, as I was saying, I'm George and this is my wife, Nicole." Nicole then introduced herself.

"Bonjour, Mike. I am Nicole Raccoon, it iz a pleazure to welcome you to our extended family."

Mike took notice of her accent. "Ah, nice to meet the both of you. Say, by any chance, you from Quebec?"

Nicole laughed. "Oui, from Montreal. It iz really that obvious?"

"Well, yes. I knew a guy from Montreal back when I lived in Prince Rupert who used to come to my bar-I'm a bartender, you see. Wasn't the nicest guy I knew, he used to steal from my bar. Montreal's a far cry from Kentucky, though. Down there we had the Stars and Bars."

"You are from Kentucky?" Nicole asked. "That'z a long way away from here."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know what's funny? I've never actually been to the US," George answered. "It's funny, I've been all over this country, and yet I've never been state-side. The only time I've left this country was to visit Canterbury in England."

"I remember that, Dad," Lisa spoke up. "Well, not really well, I was only…how old was I then?"

"I think maybe four," George said, not honestly remembering.

"So," I asked Mike. "What do you think of the family?"

"Hmm. Seem to be an interesting bunch of folks."

"So, anyways, Mike," George asked. "What made you come up here to Canada from Kentucky? Job opportunities?"

"Not quite," Mike admitted.

"I'll answer that," I spoke up. "Mike fled here in the late 1960s to dodge the Vietnam War draft."

"Yes," Melissa added. "Uprooted me from my childhood home. I can't really remember much of Kentucky, though…"

"Well…" George looked a bit surprised by that. "…I guess it's a good thing I'm not from America. If I were, no doubt they'd have drafted me as well. I might not even be here right now."

"I don't see no reason why we had to fight in Vietnam. That was a pointless war and we killed many of our boys down there. My own brother got killed there. Came back home headless in a box. Powerful stuff, seeing that." Mike had a hard time talking about Scott, his only sibling.

"I can't necessarily zay I blame you for running away," Nicole admitted. "Otherwize you might have been killed."

"Never goin' back either. This is my home now. Oh yeah, Ralph, Melissa, I forgot to ask you. Where exactly are the two of ya honeymooning now? You two didn't tell me. Better not be someplace ultra-expensive like Monte Carlo or something like that," Mike growled.

Melissa laughed. "Oh, no, no, Dad. We're not going anywhere like that. It's somewhere right here in our very own backyard."

"Hmm. Where would that be?" Mike asked curiously.

"That would be Mt. Vulcan," I replied. It was true. What my Dad had suggested we'd do had ended up being where Melissa and I decided we would honeymoon at after our wedding. It made a lot of sense, really: it was extremely cheap, costing absolutely nothing to go there at all, not to mention there would be more likely than not absolutely nobody else up there to bother the two of us. It would be _very_ romantic, if you know what I mean…

"Mt. Vulcan? Sounds alright with me," Mike said, simply.

George slapped me on the back. "Mt. Vulcan, eh? Heh! Good one, Ralph! Good one!"

My dad cheered for me. "Hey, that's right boy! I told ya that would be the best place! You'll have tons of good memories up there!"

Mike looked confused. "What's so significant about that place?" It was obvious Mike knew nothing of Mt. Vulcan's reputation. It was a little hard to believe he didn't.

George fielded that question. "Well, in case you didn't already know, Mike, Mt. Vulcan is where most of us from this Forest rounded all the bases and hit one out of the ballpark for the first time. If you get what I'm saying…"

Mike pondered that and then winced. "Oh. _Oh._ Oh, damn." He cringed heavily. "Damn. I _really_ did not need to know that."

"Well, that's not the whole reason we're going that, Dad," Melissa smiled. "It'll be a nice quiet place for us to spend the first few days of our lives as a married couple together. Isn't that right, Ralph?"

I nodded. "Exactly! A much better alternative to some big fancy city."

Mike still frowned. "Look, you two are gonna be married so I don't have a problem with that anymore, and that _is _your business, but dammit, that's my daughter, Ralph. I don't _want _to think about that. If you value your hide, you are _not_ going to share the details of you two's personal lives with me. You got that?"

"I understand, Mike…"

"Mr. Mulligan," Lisa asked of Mike.

"Mr. Mulligan was my grandfather. Call me Mike. I don't like being called 'Mr. Mulligan,' uh, your name is Lisa, right? Is that what George said?"

"Yes," Lisa replied. "Mike, where is your family? Wouldn't you invite them up for Uncle Ralph and Aunt Melissa's wedding?"

"I'm sorry to say, Lisa, that as far as I know all my family's dead. Outside of me and Melissa, there are no Mulligans left alive, far as I know. And after Saturday, there'll only be me left. Be glad you aren't part of a dying family."

Melissa whispered to me. "Ralph, I'm sure there are other Mulligans out there somewhere. I'll have to do some research to see if there are any still alive. I do like to think I have some family somewhere out there."

"I'm sure there's probably one or two out there, honey. It would be nice to meet them."

George said. "You're not part of a dying family anymore, Mike. Think about it. This Saturday, you'll be a member of our extended family."

"Yeah, you're going to be my brother!" Dad blurted out gleefully. He was still thinking about that free beer he wanted so much.

"See, Dad? You're not really going to be alone-you have a lot of new relatives and in-laws," Melissa beamed.

George put his hand on Mike's shoulder. "Welcome to the Raccoon family, Mike."

Mike smiled a bit. "Gee, uh, thanks, everybody. Suppose it's much better than being the last in a family tree…"

Mike thought he was permanently alone in the world, but in a way, he wasn't. He was part of our extended family-and we were proud to have the Mulligans join our family tree.

* * *

><p>Soon enough came the night of my bachelor party. You'd be surprised to know it was a rather subdued affair. Bert, being the best man, hosted the party at the Raccoondominium. Among the guests included George, my father, his friends Henry and Peter, Cedric, and a few of Bert's college friends, as well as Don Ringtail. I was really surprised by how well Bert behaved at the party. Bert only drank <em>one<em> beer. Only one. Two years ago, there was no doubt Bert would have probably downed at least ten and probably passed out. It really was true. He really _was _maturing and starting to grow up. Sure, he was still very goofy and light-hearted, but his overall behavior was definitely improved-by a whole lot. I couldn't say the same for my Dad, though…Dad consumed over _twenty-five_ beers and ended up passing out, forcing Henry and Peter to carry him out and take him home. No doubt he would be nursing a hangover at the wedding tomorrow. I hoped that this would not turn out to be a repeat performance of George's wedding…

It was Saturday. Today was the big day. The day of my wedding. I was already dressed up in my tuxedo, while Bert was getting ready as well. Bert was actually wearing a tuxedo too, like everybody else. This was _very_ surprising of him, considering Bert absolutely _hated_ dressing up. The last time I'd seen him do it, was at our prom. The same went for my father as well-he hated wearing a suit.

I was looking over a letter that had come in the mail this morning. The address read, "_From San Francisco, California, USA._"

I tried to think of who I knew that lived way down in San Francisco. There was only one person I knew of…

"Ah, this must be from my old riding coach when I took part in that motorcycle competition, Keith Tippett." It was a bit of surprise hearing from Keith, considering he'd left for a new job offer State-side in Frisco, but I did remember my Mom had contacted him in the hopes of seeing if he would attend my wedding. (Considering the date it arrived, it was obvious he wouldn't be coming, but it would still be interesting to see what he had to say.)

I opened the envelope and read the letter in my head. "_Dear Ralph Raccoon: Good grief, it's been ages since I've heard anything from you! Haven't heard from you since I moved down here to San Francisco. Life is a lot different down here, but it's certainly been worth the move. Allow me to explain: I was selected to run as the general manager of an Indy Car team, the Kraco Racing Enterprises Team. I am finally going to be living my childhood Indy dream, in a way. My name'll never be on the Bug-Warner Trophy as I always dreamed it would be, but I might very well win as a big part of a team. We have two very talented youngsters driving for us this year: Geoff Flabham, from Australia (son of the former World Champion Jack Flabham), and none other than the great Mario Hendretti's young son Michael Hendretti. He's about your age, Ralph, and he's a chip off his old man's shoulder! Practically brimming with talent. Already we've run two races this year and we finished third last race at Phoenix. I see big things ahead of us in the future with these two. Us and Michael this year are competing for Rookie of the Year this year at Indy. We're the favorite to do so; our only other serious competition is this young kid from South America called Roberto Gorilla. It will be a very close race between the two of them, but I think we might not only win Rookie of the Year, we might just win the big race itself! We got a damned good team put together, a lightning fast pit crew, top-notch engine builders, everything! I must say that I was inspired to seek employment for an Indy Car team by your performance against that little bastard Arnold Layne. You ought to write me back telling me what became of him, I hope it's not very pleasant, heh-heh! But I'd like to thank you, Ralph, for helping me finally decided to achieve my dream-I'm living it now! You and your new bride ought to watch us later this month on TV so you can see us tear up the competition at the Brickyard! Speaking of which, I would personally like to congratulate you on getting married to that gal you were trying to win the paw of at that motorcycle competition-good on ya! I do wish the two of you the best of luck in your future lives together. I would really love to come up and see you two's wedding-I'd even love to bring the whole team up in person so ya could meet Geoff and Mike in person-I've told them about you before! Unfortunately, my scheduling doesn't permit it, as we'll be busy testing for the big race and thus, I can't possibly attend. However, let it be known that I do send the two of you my congratulations. This past year Shirley and I tied the know-so I know what it's like to go through this whole big scene! Good luck to the two of ya in the future-Regards, Keith A. Tippett._"

I smiled reading that letter. Sure, Keith couldn't attend, but I was glad for him-he was finally living his dream, in a way. He really did have a big future ahead of him in the world of Indy Car racing State-side. Myself, I didn't want to watch auto racing anymore (not after the rather…gruesome occurrence I'd seen in qualifying for the '82 edition of the Indy 500…), but I might just tune in just to see Keith and his team's two drivers.

Bert strutted up to me, dressed up smartly. "Say, Ralph, who's that letter by?"

I didn't want to tell Bert who'd written it, being that Bert still loved the Indy Cars (especially since Tom Sneva had recently finally won the big race the previous year) and this letter would really, _really_ hype him up. Seriously, I do think if Bert were a child growing up today, they'd diagnose him with some form of ADHD and probably medicate him…

"Ah, it's just a letter of congratulations from an old family friend," I said, putting the letter in my pocket.

"Well, Ralph. This is it. Today's the big day. After today, you'll be a married raccoon. You sure you're ready to go through with this?" Bert asked.

I nodded. "More ready than you could ever know. I've been waiting for this day to arrive ever since we got engaged, no way I can back out of it now."

"I'm a bit surprised, Ralph, that you didn't want any…you know…exotic entertainment last night…" He was referring to my bachelor party; Dad had tried to hire a stripper from the party, but he'd been unsuccessful. Which I thought was for the better-I personally didn't want to get in trouble with Melissa…

"Well, that's not for me, Bert," I replied confidently.

"Eh, suit yourself," he shrugged. "We got all the rehearsal stuff out of the way, right?"

"Yes, Bert," I replied. "I think we're all set."

"Whew, good, I'm getting a bit tired of all this rehearsing we had to do the past couple weeks. Damn. Really wore me out."

"I wonder how you'll be able to survive on the road," I cracked at him.

"Hey, hey! I'll manage-I think I can adapt to the rockstar lifestyle very well!" Bert still had complete faith in himself that he and the Flying Aces would succeed greatly.

"We'll see about that…"

"Seriously, Ralph, I can't believe you didn't want some kind of…entertainment last night. I mean, c'mon. Last night_ will _be the very last free night you'll ever have in your life. As of a few short hours from now, you'll be officially and legally tied down! You won't be able to have much free time of your own anymore." Bert was trying to make it sound like it was a huge burden being married, but I didn't really see it that way.

"Well, Bert, I don't look it at that way. I don't see our union as something burdensome-I see it as rather exciting, if you will. The start of our new, exciting, uncertain future. I look quite forward to that."

"Like I said, suit yourself. Good idea picking Mt. Vulcan, heh-heh," he chuckled. "See, I really taught you well back in those days!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Bert, stop. That's not the only reason we're going there, you know! It costs nothing to go there and the scenery is extremely beautiful; it's a very romantic place. Between that and some hotel suite in a city, who couldn't help but choose it?"

Bert looked like he'd been put in his place. "Hmm…point taken…"

I figured I'd bring something else up with him. "I see you barely drank anything last night, Bert…"

Bert laughed. "I'm a changed man, Ralph. Couple years back I would have drank the whole lot and made a fool out of myself, but, well, I see how much this whole thing means to you. You're getting married to the woman of your dreams, Ralphie boy! Not every guy gets to be that lucky, ya know. I couldn't get myself hammered last night, I'm proud of ya, Ralph, and I don't want to miss this for anything in the world, ol' pal!"

Words like that meant volumes to me. "Wow, I guess it really is true, Bert. You really _are_ starting to grow up…" And he really and truly was. Bert was starting to make more good decisions and tread along the right path. Maybe he _did_ stand a chance in the big city after all...

"Well, of course I am, Ralph. I need to learn how to make my own decisions for myself and become independent, after all. It's only a month or so before my band leaves the Forest for good. See, that's why I spent most of the last couple days with Cedric. It could very well be the last time I see him for a long time to come."

I would miss Bert when he left. "Well, I do wish you the best of luck in your city endeavors, Bert. Boy, I think I'm ready to see Melissa…" I wanted to see her before the wedding, I hadn't seen her in almost 24 hours. While me and the guys had been having our little bachelor get-together last night, Melissa, Nicole, my mother, and a handful of others had been doing some activities at my parents' house.

Bert shot a look at me like I was nuts. "What, are you crazy, Ralph! You can't see your bride before the wedding!"

I was confused. "Huh? Why not? Why can't I see Melissa?"

"Ralph, don't you know? It's very bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. You're not supposed to see her while she's readying herself for the big occasion!"

"Oh." I remembered now, it was a very old tradition the groom wasn't supposed to see his bride right before their wedding. It seemed like a bit of a silly one, though. "What would possibly happen if I did see her?"

Bert quickly chirped up, "Well, all sorts of bad things. If I remember what I heard right, your marriage will immediately be cursed by that. Your marriage will be a very sad, unlucky, and unhappy one. The spark in your relationship will burn out and the love between the two of you will quickly die. There'll be a seventy-five percent chance your marriage will end in an unhappy divorce within three years or less." Bert made it sound like an absolute disaster. "Or, maybe I don't remember right. Somebody else told me the both of you's tails would drop off. Maybe it was _that_. Yeah, had to be that. If you see Melissa before your wedding, both of your tails will fall off. You don't want that, do you?" I slapped myself mentally. Sure, Bert might be in the process of maturing and growing up, but that still didn't mean he wasn't still very goofy and prone to being silly and/or saying silly or borderline stupid things.

But I figured I might as well follow tradition. "I guess not…" I said, quietly.

"Ah, let me just say one more thing, Ralph: there better be peanut butter at the reception..." How typical of him, Bert always thought any situation called for peanut butter.

"I don't think they'll be serving peanut butter, Bert, sorry to burst your bubble," I told him.

Bert looked horrified.

"What? No peanut butter? My goodness, your family must not have _any_ taste!"

* * *

><p>Soon enough we were all gathered at the Evergreen Church. The Reverend Eric Bell, a groundhog, was presiding over the wedding. There were maybe fifty of my family, friends, and associates gathered here for the ceremony. Here I was, standing at the altar.<p>

Sooner than I knew it, the bride was coming up the aisle. Melissa, in her wedding gown, being led by Mike. I noticed that Mike was crying, as I said, today was a very bittersweet day for him. His daughter was about to be wed, and he obviously felt rather alone in the world right now.

Soon enough, Reverend Bell began giving the typical speech, the vows, the usual-you know. I won't bore you with the majority of them-I'm sure you've heard enough of them at weddings!

Admittedly the Reverend did go a bit overboard with the speech-he spoke on a lot longer than I could remember the Reverend at George's wedding had. Not to mention, to be honest, he was a little boring…

Melissa shot me a look, basically saying, "When is he going to hurry it up?"

Soon enough, the Reverend finally got to the best part of the wedding.

"Ralph Henry Raccoon," he spoke in his Scottish accent, "do you take Melissa Mulligan to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor an' keep her in sickness and in health for the rest of your natural Earth-bound life?"

"I do," I said proudly.

Reverend Bell then asked the same of Melissa. "And you, Melissa Allison Mulligan, do you take Ralph Raccoon to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor an' keep him in sickness and in health for the rest of your natural Earth-bound life?"

Melissa nodded. "I do, Reverend."

"Very well," he said, glancing towards me. "You may now kiss the bride."

Our lips closed in as we kissed each other. We were now officially a married couple. The future seemed so bright for us.

Everyone applauded. I could overhear my father whispering to Mike.

"Hey, Mike, now that we're family…" I figured he was discussing the prospect of free beer, because I heard Mike whisper back, "Sorry, no can do Art. Nobody gets free beer. Hell. I wouldn't give you free beer if you were my own son! It's not right to give anyone a pardon on free alcohol…"

Melissa and I looked at each other. We didn't know what lay in store for us as a pair of newlyweds…

But we both knew, that no matter what, we would never part until our dying days.

**END CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **You know, it's funny when I look back at my earlier chapters and see I thought a 9,000 word chapter was extremely long. Pah. That's NOTHING compared to this chapter! If you're wondering why it's so large, well, it is the last regular chapter, so I basically decided to cram everything I could in to fill up the chapter. That actually meant I ended up clipping a few things out of this chapter since I gave myself a 20,000 word limit for this chapter: among the things I ended up not putting in included a physical appearance by Keith Tippett (I ended up just reducing his role in this chapter to a non-appearing role, having sent a congratulatory letter to Ralph), George explaining some of _his_ past story to Ralph and Melissa (Now that might be an interesting idea for a future fanfic; I mean, we know even _less_ about George than we do Ralph! Maybe sometime in the future…), an appearance by Aunt Gertie, and some more of Ralph's father's stupidity. Anyways, onto some more notes…

The part about Ralph's father having eaten crayons as a child is 100% Homer-inspired (Well, his character is too, so...). When he was a child, Homer shoved crayons up his nose, the end result being that one got lodged in his brain and proved to be a leading cause behind his stupidity. I need to watch that episode again...Not to mention, there's also an adaptation of the infamous "last peanut" scene, and the basic description of Arthur's fantasy of what he would do with millions of dollars is based upon a fantasy Homer had of winning the lottery: he had himself gold plated with 14-karat gold, became the biggest man in the world, and Mr. Burns promptly declared him to be "King Homer." However, his letter informing his wife and his family that they need not worry where he is is inspired by a similar letter Peter Griffin left in a episode of _Family Guy_, when he attempted to have Chris convert to Judaism in hopes that he would become smarter as a result.

That song you see George singing along to (and air-guitaring, probably out of character but I thought it was funny so I kept it anyways) is called _Whiskey In The Jar_. It's an old, old song (how old? We're talking written back in the 16/1700s...), a folk song hailing from Ireland. The version here would be the version performed by Irish rock band Thin Lizzy (criminally underrated band, primarily only known for _"The Boys Are Back In Town"),_ a single released in 1972. I have this song as a bonus track on their 1973 album, _Vagabonds Of The Western World_ (actually, I have it as a bonus track on TWO album, it's also on 1972's _Shades Of A Blue Orphanage_...this is why I should check album track listings first...) I really do like this song.

Mike smokes Manitoba brand cigarettes, the brand of cigarette from King of the Hill. Hey, if they had products from Acme on this show (can't name the specific episodes off the top of my head)...

Kraco Racing Enterprises was a real 1980s Indy Car team based out of California, their drivers in 1984 were Geoff Brabham and rookie Michael Andretti. (I think some of these punny names I came up with are astronomically dumb looking back at them now, but, well, what can I do?)

Last but not least, if you wanted to see more of the wedding, I fully do apologize for that-I don't really know how on earth I would _begin_ to write a wedding, plus, to be honest, I think it would be a stately bore to write out a whole wedding. So I just wrote a small portion of it. Sorry if I disappointed anybody about that.

Anyways, that's pretty much the entire fanfic, but we still have an epilogue ahead of us, which features the wrapping up of some final events leading up to the show, Ralph's final words looking back on everything, the lead-up to next year's big fanfic (See my profile for more information about that, it's in its embryonic stages right now), and last but not least, a special thanks section in which I thank those of you who've reviewed this fanfiction and give shoutouts to anybody and anything I think is in need of one. My character list (chapter 18, not really a chapter but something I felt like tacking on to the end) will explain the choosing of the names of some of the original characters, as well as feature a few little random facts I threw in.

I hope you enjoyed this fanfic (I'm saying that a little prematurely, but still, I'll say it anyways) and I hope to bring you more in the future, time permitting!


	17. Chapter 17: Epilogue

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Well, this story has reached its end. You've heard the full story of Ralph and Melissa, and now they are wed. But before I can officially declare it a 100% completed fanfic, I feel I need to write this epilogue where I tie up some events leading up to the show (and some frame events for next year's big fanfic-a pseudo-sequel, if you will!) And at the very end, after the "The End", I will be giving out my special thanks-those of you who reviewed this fanfic, you know who you are! Also, my shoutouts-to anyone and anything I think needs one. (Some of these will be…amusing, to say the least…)

Anyways, here we go…

_**Legal Disclaimer and Crap: **__I do not own the rights to the Raccoons…pah! Last time I have to type that in this fanfic, altogether! Huzzay!_

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Epilogue (What A Long, Strange Trip It's Been)**

The events of my wedding reception were as you'd expect. Bert, Mike, and everyone else openly congratulated the newlyweds and wished us the best of luck in our new union. Dad managed to, as you'd expect, make an absolute ass out of himself (as if that was anything new!) He managed to get drunk off of the champagne and proceeded to dance on top of the table. So typical of my dad…

The next day, Melissa and I left for a couple of days on top of Mt. Vulcan for our honeymoon. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I remember her carrying her all the way up the mountain. Sitting beside a fire together. And…well…I don't _think_ you need to know anything else about what happened, as I don't think it would be professional or polite of me to go into detail there (besides, I know Melissa would get upset if I spoke about our private moments in any detail!) I will say _this_, though: those were two days I'll _never_ forget in my life, heh heh…

Soon, Melissa and I settled down together in the Raccoondominium. For about another month or so, Bert would be co-habiting with us, but it wouldn't be much longer-Bert and I were due to graduate next month, and Bert was already preparing to leave for the city with his band. Melissa and I were looking forward to it in some ways and in some ways we were not. On the one hand, Bert being gone would leave us to have our private time uninterrupted by him (I still do remember the handful of times Bert had walked in on Melissa and I making out when we were supposed to be studying together while we were still boyfriend and girlfriend; heaven forbid if he walked in on us while we were having a romantic encounter between the bed sheets!). But on the other hand, both of us did fear what could happen to Bert in the city. The music industry could totally corrupt him; we both were aware that they could mold him and break him until he became a puppet of the industry and did exactly as they told him to. Though knowing Bert, he didn't like to follow orders given to him, so he would probably try to resist their attempts to mold him and make him sell his soul. But how long could he possibly do that before the chance for stardom became too strong a temptation to resist selling his soul?

Soon enough, Bert and I were graduating college together. It was a big proud moment for me-I was very proud to have been able to stick with my educational path the whole way through. Bert was just extremely glad that he didn't ever have to listen to an "ancient" classical composition ever again!

Just a couple weeks after he graduated, Bert was already leaving for the city. We were already prepared for him to move out, but still, it was sad to see him go. Bert did promise he would write us every couple of weeks and occasionally phone us from time to time. He also told us that his band would without a doubt be THE band of 1985, and he told us to be on the lookout for my royalties from co-writing most of the material for the debut album, music videos, big concert tours with big-name groups, and his most ambitious plan-a future TV special featuring him, Woodchuck Berry, and Jimmy Crane, the "world's three greatest guitarists," playing a mind numbing jam session of the ages. Melissa and I could not help but laugh at that; it was _very_ unlikely Bert's heroes would take enough of an interest in his music that they would want to play alongside him. Still, it was a nice dream to have, I suppose. Melissa and I both bade him farewell and gave him our best wishes as he left.

In the meantime as time passed, Dad suddenly quit his job at Mr. Willow's store, and suddenly out of the blue developed a bizarre interest in hidden treasure. All he could talk about was "hidden treasure this, hidden treasure that"! He kept trying to get Melissa and I involved in his scheme to find treasure and become wealthy; I still will not forget the one night Dad came barging in to the Raccoondominium uninvited to tell us he knew where to find hidden treasure while Melissa and I were…preoccupied. That _had_ to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. But on the other hand, Dad seemed to be genuinely interested in this new hobby; he was actually frequently borrowing maps and books from the museum. This was very impressive for him, considering he was…well, semi-literate. It looked like maybe his life finally had a direction, a purpose. He managed to rope his friends Henry and Peter, as well as his new friend, an aardvark named Eric (a distant uncle of Sophia's), into helping him discover treasure. And together they actually managed to discover some. Although, Dad's treasure hunting attempts put him directly into conflict with Cyril Sneer; Cyril began plotting to stop my father and take his accumulated treasure for himself to add to his own wealth. Against all odds, Dad was able to stay one step ahead of him…until the summer of 1985.

One day while out searching for treasure, Dad was seriously injured out in the wilderness. To this day, I am still not exactly sure what happened to him, but the accident ended up leaving Dad paralyzed from the waist down. Dad instantly became depressed realizing he would never walk again and instantly began taking up his old eating habits despite warnings from Dr. Canard to lax on the unhealthy food. Sure enough, Dad's health has rapidly faded over the years. Ever since his accident, he's had another three heart attacks, and has indeed developed diabetes as I feared he would, forcing him to take insulin shots every day. To top it all off, he is beginning to grow…senile, and has already forgotten most things from his life. As such, he needs someone to look after him frequently, and oddly enough, that person has usually been for the past two years, much to her chagrin, Nicole. Nicole especially dislikes having to "babysit" Dad considering she can hardly stand him. Still, Dad's in good hands, but Dr. Canard hasn't given him much longer to live. He says Dad has at most maybe another five years left, the amount of unhealthy food he's eaten throughout his life span has proven to be his undoing. It's sad, but not too unexpected. I didn't really expect him to live to seventy-five. But enough about my father…

In the meantime of all this, over the course of the next year or so after Bert left, we did hear back from him occasionally. Bert's letters painted a very confusing portrait of his life in Vancouver. They were often very vague and not revealing very much, usually just that all was well. Bert also appeared to be having problems with the Flying Aces recording their debut album; he kept telling us issues would delay the release of the album. First it was the fact that some of the tracks were not produced well enough and needed to be re-done. Then it was the fact that the producers accidentally wiped the masters for the album while mixing it and that they would have to start fresh again in recording. Next it was the fact that they needed to do some re-takes as the producers were unsatisfied with the finishing product. I was beginning to wonder if Bert had failed royally at his audition or something and was lying to try to cover up the fact he was struggling. But I decided that Bert was most likely telling the truth…

Along the way, suddenly I found myself abruptly unemployed. Mr. Lassater suddenly revealed he was short on cash and not a very good businessman; he declared bankruptcy out of the blue and Lassater's closed down. It was soon demolished when no one would buy the Café. It was sad to lose my job, but Melissa was able to help me keep my spirits up. After all, I was still trying to apply for a newspaper somewhere, anywhere nearby. I was still getting nothing but rejection letters, but we both figured sooner or later one of these would be accepting my offer.

Around this point, Bert suddenly stopped writing and calling us. It seemed so strange. Maybe this was a sign Bert and the Flying Aces actually finally had gotten their debut album accepted and were on tour? We didn't have any way of knowing for sure, so we figured we'd wait until we heard from him again. But nothing came from him, which made us feel worried that he might have forgotten about us.

Then came that one day just a few weeks before Christmas. I can still remember it-it was a snowy Saturday morning. Melissa and I were sleeping together in our bed, cuddled together to keep warm. It was certainly quite cozy. All of a sudden, a loud and frantic sounding knock came at the front door, jarring the two of us awake.

"Oh, good grief…" I groaned. "Who could that possibly me?"

"I don't know, honey," Melissa yawned. "Sure is rude to come knocking at this early hour of the morning."

"Can you get that?" I asked her. "I'm not sure I'm in the mood right now…"

"Alright, Ralph. I'll go see who it is." Melissa got up from my bed-side and shuffled downstairs to greet the mystery person at the door. I got up and followed her downstairs.

Much to our surprise, it was…

"Bert?" Melissa gasped. Both of us were shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in the city, working on your music?" I asked aloud.

Bert looked absolutely _horrible_. He looked famished, his sweater was badly torn…basically, he looked like a vagrant, a hobo, if you will.

"I-I-I've never been more glad to see you guys…" Bert weakly exclaimed to us.

"Bert, what happened?" Melissa asked. "Why did you come here? Why are you in such bad shape?"

Bert just simply muttered, "…Johnny the Fox…Jimmy the Weed…Emmaretta…Telegram Sam…D-d-d-damper D-d-d-d-dan…"

Melissa and I had no idea what he could be talking about. It seemed he might be delirious. We decided to let Bert in to get some warmth and hopefully to find out more when he got a little bit of rest. We couldn't help _but_ let him in-he looked so sad, sorry, cold, and miserable that we pitied him greatly, even though we had absolutely no idea what had happened to him.

After a while, we were able to speak to Bert in more detail.

"You guys don't know what I went through to get here," he glanced to me, "I had to follow the railway line home. I must have walked about two hundred miles and rode a train another fifty…"

Melissa looked taken aback. "Bert, you followed the railway line to get here? How long did it take you to get from there to here?"

Bert thought for a minute. "About three months…" he said, lowly.

"Bert, please, do tell us, what happened to your band?" I asked him.

Bert looked sad . "We, uh, we didn't get the contract Ralph. They liked our sound, but they didn't like my voice. Said I didn't have a good enough voice…I don't know what went wrong from there, but then Don and Donny kicked me out of the band. My own band…"

"You poor thing," Melissa said, sympathetically. "Not very nice of them."

"No, it wasn't," Bert sighed. "I had such a horrible time in the city, I got booted out of my apartment, I lost almost everything but my most prized possessions. So I decided to come back home to the Forest. I thought perhaps you two would be able to help me. I don't have anywhere else to turn to…"

Melissa and I looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

Bert started sobbing and started pleading with us in the most desperate tone of voice I'd ever heard.

"Please, please, Ralph, Melissa! Please! Take me in with you, allow me to stay here with you! Please don't turn me away, I've got nowhere else to go…Please, let me stay here! I'll be good, I promise you guys! Please, just let me stay!"

Melissa and I both felt very sorry for Bert. He hadn't gone into much detail about what had happened to him in Vancouver, but whatever had happened had definitely broken poor Bert. He was so desperate for us to help him…

Melissa put a paw on Bert's shoulder while he continued to sob. "Bert, we'll be glad to take you in for a while."

"Sure," I added. "You can stay here until you can get back on your feet again. We'll be here for you, Bert, you don't have to worry about us turning our backs on you. You're our friend, now and always." I hoped that would cheer him up-personally, I realized this move would sacrifice mine and Melissa's private time together greatly, but, Bert's security felt more important right now. We couldn't just let our old dear friend suffer miserably alone.

Bert's face perked up. Instantly he scooped us up in his arms and hugged us as tight as he possibly could. "Thanks, guys…" an appreciative Bert spoke to us, still sounding a bit sad. "I promise I'll be the best houseguest ever!"

We agreed to let Bert move back into his old bedroom. Bert would be able to stay here, but in order for him to stay long term, we determined that he would have to pull his own weight and help us around the house with our chores. No way we were about to have him bum off of us. We were surprised when Bert actually did help out around the house, it seemed like he was determined to stay.

Not long after we met Schaeffer and Sophia Tutu for the first time as Cyril decided our forest was too unsightly and attempted to destroy it by placing a giant hockey rink over where our beautiful lake was. Luckily we (and a re-energized Bert) were able to defeat Cyril's bears at hockey (despite Bert injuring himself) and we saved the Forest. This led to a string of encounters with Cyril.

At last, in late spring of '86, my dream looked like it came true…I finally got accepted to work for a paper out in Victoria. Melissa and I immediately planned to move, as we had if I did get accepted to work for a paper in another town. However, we both admittedly forgot about Bert-at this stage, I'm not sure he would have been able to last without us. Bert tried his hardest to stop us from leaving by pretending to be deathly ill, but he was…_far_ from convincing, I'll say. Needless to say, Melissa and I were within just a few days of packing up and leaving for Victoria when Melissa uncovered through her photography Cyril attempting to use this opportunity to create giant condominiums all over the forest. We quickly got into action and created a one-off paper warning everybody about Cyril's plot and before we knew it, his plan had been squashed. Melissa, I, and everybody else had really enjoyed working on this paper together, as such, we decided to make it a weekly thing and I declined the offer to move away to Victoria. And that's how the _Standard _was born.

Years have passed and since then, life in the forest has been up and down. George and his family moved here to the forest on a job offer from Mr. Knox in late 1990 after he and his friend Fayne had both been laid off from the Calgary steakhouse they worked at, replaced by a much younger, fresher employee. They've managed to be able to adjust to living here very well, although Lisa did need a little bit of help from Bert…I do think there is a good chance those two will get together sooner or later. I just realized if Bert and Lisa did get together and eventually got married, we really _would_ be one big giant raccoon family…

As for Melissa's father, Mike, Mike eventually finally got over Melissa leaving his household. However, he still felt rather directionless and felt he needed something besides bartending to fill up his life. He's since found it; as of now, every weekend, Mike visits the local Evergreen Orphanage to read children's stories to the sad and lonely orphans of the Forest. Mike is quite proud of this; he feels it gives some joy into the orphans' otherwise miserable lives.

As for Arnold Layne…I never saw him again after that night he tried to grope up Melissa and I broke his nose. And honestly, I hope I never do see him again. Maybe all it took to send him packing for good was to stand up to him!

Life has been at an all-time high as of late. Melissa and I recently celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe we've been married eight years already; I really would like to hope we make it to forty-five, the number of years my parents have been married! The _Standard_ also recently celebrated its sixth anniversary, it continues to grow and thrive every year. I'm one of the Forest's more distinguished residents, and while I do not like to brag, it certainly is an honor, I'll say that!

I look back at everything that happened to me over the past thirty years of my life. I see that I made a number of mistakes, and did some outstandingly dumb things that I do still regret doing.

But I also see I have changed so much over those years. To think that I was once just a shy, awkward kid who couldn't even approach girls at all! Those days are light years behind me now. Ever since I met Melissa, life went sharply uphill.

Looking back, it really was a long and strange trip through life. But I wouldn't change any of it for the world.

Now, I only wonder what the next fifty years'll bring me?

**END CHAPTER SEVENTEEN…**

**AND…**

**FANFIC COMPLETE!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **And that's it. That's officially a wrap. Outside of my character list (**EDIT: **I decided against a character list ultimately, I found it too boring while trying to write...) this fanfic is officially over. My first fanfic in the books now. It was a really up and down ride, but overall, I think this is the proudest I've ever felt about anything I've ever written. (And I don't even think of myself as that good of a writer!) I really hope all you people enjoyed watching this fanfic grow and evolve over the course of a few months.

One last little bit of information before I get to the special thanks and shoutouts…the names you see Bert deliriously muttering to Ralph and Melissa? SPOILER ALERT: They are all the names of various unsavory characters Bert encounters in next year's "pseudo sequel", Bert's adventures in the city.

And now that this fanfic has wrapped up, allow me to give special thanks to the following people who reviewed, in order…

**SPECIAL THANKS:**

_Raccoonqueen-Thank you kindly for your reviews of chapters 1 and 2, you have some fairly interesting stories. I won't lie and say I liked all of them, but you are a pretty good writer. Did I lose you at Chapter 3? I do apologize if I did._

_Kobebeef-Thanks for all the support you've given me during my time writing this fanfic, without any support, I have no idea whether I'd have even finished this fanfic at all! "Secrets and Heroes" is a great piece of fanfiction (that I need to reread again once I do get the chance…) Also, I would like to personally thank you for volunteering to proofread my future endeavors on this site; since I do happen to my own worst critic, I really do appreciate it!_

_Nicky4-Thank you kindly for your reviews and I also must thank you personally for allowing me permission to use Delilah Blackmask and Mt. Vulcan in this fanfic. I would have given Delilah a bigger part, but well, this sort of is Ralph's story, not Bert's, heheh. I did thoroughly enjoy "Trapped on Mt. Vulcan" and "Pay the Piper", and I also got a big laugh out of your Cyril Sneer skit "Three Wishes". Classic joke!_

_Yuval Konsker-Thank you kindly (sorry if that sounds clichéd) for your review of Chapter 1. Really, I don't have a lot to say, other then it's nice to see someone from as far away as Israel reading my work, so that is appreciated._

_Highway67-Thank you for your review-really, that's some high praise you lauded upon me! I really don't think I'm THAT great of a writer-like I said, I am my own worst critic! I'll try to take your corrections into consideration for next time-as I may or may not have said I am not really a football person, but I will try to get my football terminology better next time!_

_SpiralFracture/Spiral-Frax-Thank you for your reviews; I think you are dead on the money about Queen as well-I'd personally take their first two albums over the rest of their output! (Tried to be your son and daughter rolled into one…) I do apologize for the length of some of my chapters, heheh-perhaps that's something I need to work on for next time! I'm really surprised I got the characterizations mostly spot-on, too-I came in expecting I would at some point utterly massacre the characterization. I guess I did pretty alright! Thank you._

_And now that my special thanks are out of the way, allow me to give some shoutouts to things I see fit to earning one…_

**SHOUTOUTS:**

_First of all, Mom and Dad-For without whom, I obviously wouldn't be here to write this fanfic. For raising me and guiding me through my teenage years, I do really appreciate it. There's a .0001 percent chance you'll ever read this, but should the off-hand chance arrive and you DO end up reading this at some point, I want you both to know I really appreciate everything you've done for me…and I hope you don't think I'm too much of a psycho writing a story for a children's cartoon!_

_Kevin Gillis-For creating the Raccoons, of course. (Without him, there'd be no characters for me to write about and this story would not even exist, you know…)_

_Anonymous Youtube Friend-For introducing me to this show back in March. S/he noticed my taste in cartoons and recommended this one from his/her childhood. Not in a "watch this or I will kick your ass" manner, in a friendly and polite way. Thanks to this user, I actually ended up really liking this show. Before I found this show, I had the Smurfs pegged as the best '80s cartoon! I would have given their name, but I messaged them and they preferred to remain anonymous, so, your wishes have been respected._

_Matt Groening-For creating the Simpsons, my all-time favorite TV show, I have been watching it since I was 3 years old. Congratulations on getting ready to surpass the 500 episode mark, although honestly I think the show is in decline and perhaps should have ended with the Movie._

_The Guess Who, Blue Oyster Cult, Deep Purple, Rainbow, Jeff Beck Group, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Journey, The Moody Blues, The Faces, Thin Lizzy-For performing the songs featured in this fanfic._

_NASCAR-For having been my favorite childhood sport since I was three._

_Jeff Gordon-For having been my all-time favorite race car driver of any era and any series; since I was a little kid. Funny story-Bert's interest in vintage Indy racer Tom Sneva is partially based on my own childhood…obsession with Gordon. Seriously, to this day my room is like a mini-shrine to him, I have so much rare Gordon memorabilia I don't know what to do with it now. I think I had problems when I was a kid, hehehh…_

_Sixties4ever13-For having an awesome Youtube channel that featured great well-known and obscure music from the early '60s to the early '70s. Sadly, his channel was just recently suspended by the copyright police-may his channel rest in peace!_

_RakyMaky-For having another awesome Youtube channel-he has many great artists uploaded on there. Zeppelin, Sabbath, Genesis, Yes, Chicago, Deep Purple…and he even has the Monty Python and the Holy Grail movie uploaded on there too! Now that's a great channel in my opinion. His channel's actually been suspended in the past, but, he got it back…quite impressive!_

_HeavyIronMetalMaiden-For having, in my opinion, the current best Youtube music channel. Despite his name, he's literally uploaded just about everything you could possibly think of (really) only slowed down somewhat to try to defeat the copyright police. May his channel never fall._

_Tvspnd1228-For having a large collection of motorsports videos, it was thanks to him I was able to watch the 1981 Indy 500!_

_ShakespeareHemmingway-For having the most ridiculous stories on this particular site, stories featuring Garfield (the comic strip cat) basically being like Chuck Norris and being the ultimate man and beating bad guy ass and getting lots of women. Seriously, how can I not guffaw with laughter reading "stories" containing gems such as "__All of a sudden there was huge boom heard and all looked to the wall. There was hole that was CAT shaped but could only be made by MAN. Out of it they saw mystery figure full of muscle and manhood. Thunder crashed with lightning and rockin heavy metal music with awesome riffs played as the figure entered room with style" and "_'_It is being true you have killed me before but Odie has brought me back from abyss of death and gave me new life and made me new cat. I am not man you once knew I am become Cyber Nermal X!'" Seriously, if you do want a really cheap laugh, do go look this guy up. You will not regret it. We're not all above reading pieces of garbage, are we?_

_And last but not least…_

_To all of my readers, and my reviewers, an extra big shoutout goes to you, without whom this fanfic would not be possible. I mean, what would I possibly do with this if it was only for my personal use?_


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